Source
by Cowardice
Summary: When Travis was drop kicked into the Xmen universe against her will, life suddenly got a bit more complicated but what's a normal human girl to do in a world of superpowers? Before/during XI, AU, will involve other Marvel characters and eventually Deadpool centric.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

Travis stared emptily out from a park bench. From where she sat, she had a good view of the small park and the winding path that hid itself amongst the trees. The crispness of the Autumn season invaded her senses. The foliage was in the middle of their transformation which gave the trees around her a colourful and schizophrenic personality. A cool breeze whistled lightly through and the few leaves on the ground played amongst it.

The picturesque nature this was lost on the small and somewhat stocky 5'3 girl.

However hard she tried, her memory was a complete blank. The last thing she remembered was that she had went to bed after a rather uneventful day as a historical research assistant at the local university, in the middle of _winter_. From the dropping foliage around her, she calculated that at least eight months of her life were missing. She woke up on this park bench with nothing but her wallet, her mp3 player and the clothes on her back. Thankfully, she was not wearing what she wore to bed because a cold Fall morning in jammies was no way to spend her first coherent and conscious thought in a strange world. Still, the fact that she was here with no recollection of what took place… it terrified her.

Travis exhaled and leaned back to look up at the sky. The clouds drifted by. Everything was so peaceful that it made her sick.

Right. Deep breath.

She needed to figure out what happened to her and the first thing to do was to find out where she was.

With a sharp intake of chilly air, Travis exhaled with resolution. A main street was the key. She hoped that there were shops that provided maps of the city or something similar. A hand ran through her long messy hair before she wiggled her toes in her hiking boots as if the action made everything better. With a heave, she stood up and took a step towards the exit of the park. She had already made up her mind to follow the general direction of cars and hoped it was a friendly city. The last thing she needed was to be mugged, raped, killed, or any combination of those three.

As she walked, the sight that greeted her was that of a bustling suburban town. From the little cheap corner souvenir shops that seemed to exist everywhere these days, Travis managed to find out that she was somewhere in the state of New York. She was not able to pinpoint where because the owner of the store refused to sell her a map on account of her rejected credit card and the lack of American currency on her person. With an irritated scowl, he directed her instead, to the nearest bank and she practically stormed out of the store. With her hands deep in the pockets of her hoodie, she stalked towards the bank in a bad mood.

Yet, with every step she took, disbelief gradually replaced her bad mood. When she finally arrived outside the entrance of the local bank, her head spun from all she had seen.

For one thing, all the local businesses seemed to be a parody of well-known international corporations. Starbucks for example, had its parallel in the coffee company, Coffebucks which seemed to dominate the coffee landscape. She had already passed by several McRonald's to make her sick. What worried her the most were the anti-mutant sentiments that seemed to be graffiti-ed on every abandoned corner or dark alleyway. Though she told herself that it was most likely a slur against homosexuals or some other unfortunate targeted race, doubt chewed on the corner of her mind. With that doubt came that growing sense of disbelief.

It just... seemed too much like a… like a comic book.

It was with some relief when she stepped inside the air-conditioned confines of the bank. At least this place was normal. It smelt like despair and accountants, just like every other bank that she had been in. After she tried accessing her accounts through the machines without much success, she joined the tedious queue for the bank. Much to her chagrin, the teller that received her had the gall to tell her that her credit card company _did not exist_. VISA was _the_ credit company, there was no way it should suddenly cease to exist. She almost blew up in front of that poor excuse for an accountant if not for the security guards who decided to see her safely to the door.

An hour later, she sat on the same park bench and stared emptily out at the small park with a lingering sense of doom. She had no access to money, she did not know _exactly_ where she was, nor did she know anybody that could possibly help her out of this predicament. After that whole experience, she felt numb with a rare feeling of helplessness. As she sat there and watched the darkening sky with the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach, her ears picked up a slur that made her look up with wide eyes.

"Mutant!"

Her head jerked up and frantically searched for the source of the voice. Human contact! Maybe helpful human contact...

"Get the mutie!" came the yell and what sounded like an echoed roar of a mob.

A blood thirsty mob.

With a curse, she jumped to her feet, much more alert and aware than she had been just seconds ago. The roar did not sound, in any possible way, like a group of helpful people.

Travis stared dumbly as a large group materialized from the winding park path and the sinking feeling she had was soon replaced by a feeling of pure and utter dread. As she watched, from amongst the midst of the mob, a young man with shaggy hair and a trench coat burst out with an amused shout that only seemed to spur the mob on. An explosion of red light followed behind him. The crowd skirted back a little before new cries for blood pushed them forward. Travis swallowed a lump in her throat. No way in hell was she going to be in the warpath of a crazed fanatical mob.

Though the man they chased was slowly putting distance between himself and the mob, she did not wait for the guy to catch up to start running. She immediately took off. This felt like a nightmare. A very tangible and adrenaline-fuelled nightmare complete with an angry mob behind her, the fast darkening path in front and only her tired legs to save her. It was no surprise that the man quickly overtook her and they exchanged looks. His was of complete amusement while hers was of complete terror.

But she almost tripped over herself when she got a good look at his face.

There was only one way to describe his appearance; gorgeous. He had roguish good looks, brown shaggy hair that was messily slicked back into a ponytail, and a smile that could charm the pants off any woman he wanted. But what truly got to her were his eyes. He had demonic eyes; red irises on black...

'_Oh gods... this must be what going insane feels like_,' Travis thought to herself before she fulfilled her own prophecy and tripped over her own two feet. His hand immediately reached out to grab and steady her.

"Now mabbe not de time to fall for me, eh petite?" the man with a sort of a smirk.

She was not able to answer as her mind had turned into mush when she heard his accent.

"C'mon, take you somewhere safe," he told her as he all but dragged her along. It was no use. By this time, Travis had already gone stiff with shock. He sighed as he paused slightly to pull out a card from the depths of his trenchcoat. The card (2 of diamonds) flared up in a red light before he threw it in the direction of the gaining mob. It flashed once before it exploded at their feet. Again, the mob withdrew slightly before the people at the back pushed through with angry shouts and they surged forward again.

"They non' stop," he said with a shake of his head and a sigh as if his throwaway comment described a bad-tempered child, and efficiently removed the gravity of the situation. At least, for him.

His offhand comment however, was nothing compared to Travis' reaction to the exploding card trick. "HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOU'RE REAL," Travis practically screamed as she stared at him, eyes wide as saucers. He stared back, in some degree of shock himself.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, "'nother crazy one. Remy sure can pick 'em." With that, he shook her aggressively to snap her out of it. This only made her babble some more. Finally, with some degree of exasperation, he simply scooped her up and dashed off. As they neared an alleyway, he turned sharply.

"Hold on petite," he told her and she did as she was told, too dazed to do anything else. Her arms went around his neck and she felt his muscles tensed before he seemed to leap up the building. One minute, they were in the alleyway with a screaming mob, the next, they were on a rooftop with the sounds of the confused mob below them. A hand was clamped over her mouth tightly to warn her against the obvious dangers of making a sound. Too dazed at the developments of her situation, Travis simply sat there and stared at the strange man dumbly. Below them, the sounds of a disappointed chase rang up in the form of garbage can abuse. It was after a while that the mob finally dispersed and it was safe to talk.

The man sighed and glanced back at her. His red on black eyes seemed to glow in the dark, "You non gonna scream if I le' go?"

Travis shook her head and he released her from his gloved hand. Travis licked her dry lips nervously as she stared at the apparition before her.

While the mob attacked the garbage cans, she had quickly developed a plan of action. She needed help… and if he was who she thought he was… and if she was where she thought she was (assuming she wasn't insane)… she was going to need his help.

"May I ask you a question?" she asked tentatively while he stood and checked their surroundings.

"Aw petite, I non' always reveal everythin' on de first date," he answered with a roguish smile in her direction. In any other situation, her female hormonal self would've thrown herself at him. Instead, her desperation leaked through.

"Are you… by any chance… I know it sounds silly and all… but… I mean… do you… go by the name of Gambit?"

He gave a start but quickly recovered, "Gambit must be getting' more famous den he tink." He raised an eyebrow at the strange girl who now sat, with legs sprawled out, on the floor of the rooftop where they took temporary refuge.

"So are you?"

He cocked his head to one side before he squatted down in front of her, "Who wanna know?" Travis' heart thumped against her chest in excitement… there was no way… no way… was there?

"Me?" she offered with a nervous smile. She had no doubt that if he wanted, he could kill her with just his pinkie. He leaned forward slightly to get a good look at her face in the darkening light. In return, she got a good look at his face. He was as he should be. A stubbled square jaw, a sharp nose that made him seem more cunning that he probably was, and a seductively shaped mouth that always seemed to be pulled into a charming smirk. All however, failed in comparison to entrance her… except for his eyes. The demonic red on black combination not only fascinated her but seemed to continually draw her in.

He seemed to be aware of his affect on her since he smiled and got even closer, "And who might you be petite?"

Travis swallowed thickly.

"Urm… A… " she croaked and immediately flushed in embarrassment. When she spotted the amusement in his twinkling eyes, she shook her head and frowned at him. "I'm just a person that needs help… and if you are who I think you are… You might be the person to help me."

He drew away slightly, head cocked to one side, as he considered her answer. Finally, he stood up and took a step back. Then, he bowed deeply and reached out for her hand. He smiled up at her before he placed a soft kiss on her knuckle. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his dramatics. "Yes, I am Gambit, petite, but his help come non' so cheap."

Travis felt a thrill went through her body and she immediately pulled her hand away and got up. "You? You're really Gambit? _The_ Gambit?" she demanded.

"Yes, yes," he said with an irritated wave of his hand.

"_The _Gambit? Remy LeBeau, that Gambit?" she continued with some degree of excitement. At the mention of his name, he narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion, "How you know dat?"

She ignored his question, "Can you do that card trick again?"

Though suspicious, he acquiesced to her request. A gloved hand reached into a hidden pocket in his trench coat and he pulled out a card. Travis watched closely with anticipation before she released a held breath when his hands glowed and the card lit up in a reddish purple light. He tossed it and it exploded harmlessly to the side. She stared at the remnants of the card, then back at the man who threw it. In response, he did a sarcastic little bow.

"Oh gods…" she murmured as she felt her strength completely leave her. She sat there with a stunned expression at her new companion. This was real… he was real… she was… Travis pinched herself hard and felt the pain travel up her arm. Yep, she was real too.

"What? Never seen a mutant before?" he practically sneered at her. She quickly recovered as her mind quickly worked up a plan.

"Well… no… that's sort of the problem," she answered, brows furrowed in thought. He gave her a bemused look, "Where you been livin' petite? Now tell Remy how you know his name 'eh?"

"I need your help, I need you to take me somewhere," she told him.

"Why you ignore de question? And Remy already told you, help non' come cheap."

"Look, I'll pay you once I have access to money. Right now, I just need you to drop me off somewhere. Please?"

"Why not call a cab?"

"They don't take Canadian money."

At this, he snorted with laughter, "Den you think other way to get home. Remy non' a cab driver." He turned away from her as an act of leaving. He made it to the side of the roof before her desperate voice pulled him back.

"You're Remy LeBeau. You more or less work as a mercenary but you are, or were, a part of the Thieves Guild. Your mutation allows you to charge up the kinetic energy in anything you touch, causing them to explode but your choice of weapon are a deck of cards that you always keep on your person."

He immediately stalked back towards her with a frown on his face, "Now, mabbe you tell how you know all dat 'bout Remy and mabbe Remy will take you where you wanna go." She shook her head, "I can't… that's why I need you to take me somewhere."  
His interest peaked, he crossed his arms, "Where you wanna go?"

"1407 Graymalkin Lane."

His frown deepened, "Why you wanna go dere fer? You no look like a rich kid to me."

Travis smiled tiredly. All this was taking a toll on her brain. She was already quite convinced that she was going insane, "Then no harm done right? You'll get paid for services rendered."

"Den you tell Remy how you know?"

"I'll try… but you probably won't believe me."

"Remy try," he said with such finality that she believed him. He extended a hand to her and pulled her up from her position on the floor. He bent and scooped her up once more in his arms. She could not help the giggle that emitted from her guilty mouth. He did not have to tell her to hold on as her arms immediately went around his neck and she buried her head in his neck.

"I'm afraid of heights," she mumbled as an semi-truthful excuse and his body shook with laughter.

While it was not entirely untrue, they both knew that the Cajun charm was too much for any sane woman to resist. And deep inside, really deep inside, Travis hated herself for this momentary lapse of weakness. Though at that moment, she was happy to indulge in her hormonal demands. She felt the muscles underneath bunch up and can't help the small thrill than ran through her body. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. Without any warning, they were off. Buildings sped by and spun her head.

Of course, he didn't carry her _all_ the way. That would be ridiculous, even for him. After they turned several corners, he, quite unceremoniously, dumped her on a park bench and quirked his head to indicate that she should follow him. She did, though it was with a sore behind and a scowl aimed at his back. It was a few minutes of tense walking before they arrived at their destination.

An ordinary bus stop.

"You want me to take a bus?!" Travis practically screeched at the Cajun. He shrugged nonchalantly, "You wan' Bus #19. And this way, nobody say Remy leave a crazy girl outside some rich kid's house. Mabbe if you find your way, Remy come find you." He grabbed her hand and pushed some coins into it before he saluted her in an ironic fashion, turned around and started to walk away.

Travis stared dumbly at the few coins in her hand before panic at being left alone again took hold and she chased after him, "Waaaait! But…but… you said you wanted to know about –"

"I'll find you," was his reply before he flashed a smile in her direction that made her vaguely weak in the knees, "But only when I want to. No worry petite, Remy will be watching." As for her, she was simply too stunned by what had transpired that she simply stood there and watched as he disappeared into the dark streets. A gust blew by and she hurried back to the lighted safety of the bus stop where the small group of people shot her suspicious stares. Being a bit more self-conscious, she checked the bus schedule pasted on the side of the bus shelter and almost broke into a string of curses and tears.

The bus came every two hours.

With a sigh, Travis dug into her pockets and pulled out her mp3 player. Humming softly to herself, she plugged in the ear buds and resigned herself to a long wait. By the time she went through a quarter of her playlist, the bus stop was void of people. She shivered more out of anxiety than the cold. So, when a lone bus finally pulled up, she was more than happy to throw herself into its welcoming warmth and its not-so-welcoming bus driver. She paid her fare with the coins that _he_ gave her and settled down on one of the seats. It wasn't until the bus started that the thought of what she was doing sunk in.

As desperate as she was in her situation, deep deep down… Travis hoped that the mansion did not exist...

----------

Unfortunately, Lady Fortune was a bitch.

A long bus ride later, Travis found herself on a large mahogany leather sofa in a large drawing room that was decorated lavishly with beautifully decorated oak shelves and leather bound books. The décor however, was lost on her as she stared unnervingly at the bald man across from her who threatened to rip out her sanity and use it for target practice. _He_ did not look like Patrick Stewart. If anything, Patrick Stewart looked like _him_. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she tried to get something, _anything_, to work.

"I must say, this is certainly a strange time for a visitor. You quite surprise us tonight, Miss…?"

Oh lords, he talked. He actually talked. To _her_.

A frown marred the smooth brow and his wheelchair whirled to life as he rolled slowly towards her. Oh jeez, he came closer. What should she do?!

"Er… eh… guh," was all she managed as she stared, bug-eyed at the man in the wheelchair. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she registered the fact that she probably acted and looked like a complete and utter idiot.

"Miss, I can't help you if I don't know what you're looking for," he continued in a voice reserved for psychopathic maniacs. Travis swallowed thickly and stared at the floor. If she didn't look at him, then he won't _really_ be _the_ Charles Xavier. She opened her mouth, croaked, cleared her throat and began again.

"I… er… I'm Travis… and… er… I guess… I need your help…" she fell silent and when he didn't interrupt her, she had to look up to see if she was still really where she thought she was. The bald man in the wheelchair was still there and he gave her a sympathetic look of encouragement.

"And… erm… I don't really belong here… and… erm… I need… just… er…"

"This is a school, we don't just let any body wander in here," someone said from the corner and Travis almost bolted from her seat. The man who spoke up had been sitting quietly in the corner until now. But the visor that sat the bridge of his nose only further convinced her that she was turning insane.

"Scott, it's alright," the redheaded woman told him with a gentle hand on his muscular shoulder. They were both dressed in dressing gowns and looked like they had a rude awakening. Travis quickly looked away. Was she hyperventilating? She didn't think she was…

"I think she's just a little confused."

"Of _course_ I'm confused!" Travis burst out suddenly and in the silence, her outburst rang in her ears. She blushed hotly both in mortification and embarrassment and wrung her hands nervously, "It's just… it's just a bit confusing…"

"What is?" prompted the Professor.

"You… all of you… the Xmen I mean."

"How…how did you know about that?" Scott burst out, a frown on his lips. At this, Travis looked up at him, startled. That was when the realization smacked her in the face like a bag of bricks. She was a liability in this place, wherever this place was, and the less people who knew about her, the better. With a sort of cornered look, she turned to the Professor and desperately hoped that he picked up on her worried thoughts. He must have because he glanced at her curiously before he turned to the other two in the room.

"Jean, Scott, if you'd leave us for a moment please," he said, more of a command than a request. With a frown, Scott and Jean stood up and with a worried glance behind their backs, the two left the room and closed the door behind them quietly. Once they were gone, Travis inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She steeled herself before she looked straight at the Professor.

"Y-y-y-you must realize," she faltered, cursed, and started again, "You must realize this is kinda hard for me."

"Oh?"

"I… I come from another world," she started then sighed, "I know, it sounds a bit stupid… but… just bear with me… please?" The only answer she received was a sympathetic nod and with a deep breath, she continued, "The world that I come from… this… all this, your world, I mean, is created by a comic book company."

It was at this that his eyebrows raised in surprise before he repeated what she said with some degree of scepticism, "A… comic book company."

"Is that so hard to believe?" she asked as she scratched the side of her head more out of frustration than an itch. "I mean… you've probably dealt with stranger things… and you can tell I'm telling the truth… right?"

He sighed and crossed his hands, "Miss…Travis, I realize that you are telling the truth though I also sense some… confusion in you."

Uh oh. Confusion? That's not good… She didn't want him to think she was crazy… even though she did not know whether or not she was... with any sort of certainty…

"Look, I can tell you things… lots of things… things that someone like me shouldn't know," she said quietly out of desperation as she clutched at her hands.

"And you're not a mutant?' he asked uncertainly, unsure of where exactly she stood. Travis ran a hand through her hair, "I'm just as confused as you are I think… I… I don't know how I got here and I know that _here_ shouldn't exist at all…"

"What exactly do you know?"

"Specifically about this world? I know who you are… what you can do… what your students can do, who they are, your mansion, your training facilities, Cerebro," at the mention of Cerebro, the Professor flinched but made motions for her to continue, "about your enemies, and… I suppose depending on which version, what's going to happen…"

"But you're not a mutant," he said, this time more of a statement than a question. Travis shook her head with a sort of wince, "Er… No… sir…"

At this, the Professor leaned back against his wheelchair with a sigh and massaged his temples as if in frustration. Travis blinked at the reaction. It worried her. The Professor was supposed to know the answer to … _everything_. She chewed on the bottom of her lip as she waited for a response from him. Now that her _"secret_" is out, her entire existence here sounded like a ridiculous joke. Travis rubbed the bridge of her nose and squinted at the man who seemed to be deep in contemplation.

"I…I'm sorry to dump this on you but… I didn't know where else to turn," she finally said to break the silence and wrung her hands together, "I mean… I've got no connections and no access to my accounts, I probably don't even have any sort of certificate to prove that I'm alive or _exists!_ So… I mean… urm… if I could maybe stay here until… I find some sort of stable… thing…"

Travis trailed off with a grimace. She sounded like she was begging.

"I mean, I know you're a school and all. Maybe I could work here for a bit until I get a… stable footing? Or something?"

He sighed and looked up at her.

"I'm afraid that would be your only option. It would be too dangerous if word got out of your knowledge. Not just for us you realize, but if your knowledge extends to the rest of the superhuman community…" He did not complete the thought but Travis definitely got the message. She was a liability to superheroes… and if the wrong people were to get a hold of her, the information could be tortured out of her…

"I understand," she replied soberly.

"I'm sure I'll find something for you to do around the mansion. We could always use the extra help though I'm afraid I won't be able to pay you much," he told her, "I'll need to discuss this with the rest of the teachers here before any firm decisions are made." Travis nodded in agreement. The man was practically giving her free room and board. This was already an incredibly generous offer. She choked down the caged feeling and managed a weak smile.

He smiled a tired smile in response and reached out to take her hand in his, "This is all very hard for me to take in but I believe you."

That was all she needed to hear. With a sniffle, she sprang up from the couch and enveloped the surprised Professor in a large sobbing hug. She had been so confused and this was a welcomed change. A large weight lifted off her shoulders just from those simple words. He believed her! She was not insane… she was _not_ insane. Xavier patted her on the back rather awkwardly but smiled a genuine smile.

"I'll ask Scott to show you to a spare room. It won't be anything glamorous I'm afraid."

"I don't need much," she replied with a bright smile as she scrubbed at her face. He nodded and sent a telepathic link out.

"May… may I ask you a question?" she asked as they waited for Scott to arrive. When he turned to face her to indicate for her to go on, Travis took a deep breath, "May I ask who are a part of your Xmen team currently?"

When he frowned at her question, she immediately provided the reason for her inquiry, "There are several parallel existences of your world. I… don't quite know which one I am in." The frown deepened, "I don't think it's a good idea Miss Travis for you to find out because it gives you the knowledge to meddle… but I suppose you'll find out sooner or later. Currently, there are only three. Scott and Jean, whom you've met, and Ororo. We are still a very small operation I'm afraid."

Her stomach sank when she realized that she was in a very early incarnation of the Xmen universe. Logan was not on the team. Even stranger was that Remy did not seem to know the mutant connection to the mansion which meant that Rogue was not in the picture as well. There were so many things that could go wrong just by her being here this early on in the story. At least the people weren't dressed like they were from the 80s (she'd kill herself).

"Is…is there a student by the name of Bobby Drake here?" she blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at her question, "Yes."

"And is he friends with John Allerdyce?"

"I believe so… is that important?"

"No… not really," she lied and knew immediately that he saw right through her. With a sigh of frustration, she worried her bottom lip and wished that Scott would get here faster. Thankfully, he did not push the issue and the two simply lapsed into an uncomfortable awkward sort of silence. Travis scratched her arm self-consciously, "Urm… what should I say if I get asked about who I am?" She did not like to fly solo in a situation like this.

He sighed, "It might be best if you were to hide the fact that you're not a mutant. Some of the students had had traumatic encounters and it is best to not bring those up until they're ready again." Travis nodded.

In other words, she was to go into hiding; to act like she did not exist.

A knock from the door interrupted the awkward silence that ensued again and Travis almost jumped for joy. She needed time to digest this and get her head together. The man known as Cyclops walked into the room and frowned at her before he turned to the Professor, "You wanted me Professor?"

"Yes Scott, could you please show Travis to the upstairs spare room in the west wing?"

He nodded but not without another suspicious frown in her direction. Then, he turned and left, with all the expectations that she would follow him. With a hasty thank you and goodnight in the Professor's direction, Travis rushed after him. In the darkened hallways, she was practically blind and if not for the annoyed grunts that Scott made in her direction, she might not have been able to follow him to her assigned room. It was with some degree of relief when he finally stopped abruptly outside a door. Unfortunately, she did not realize that he had stopped and walked, face first, into his back. Travis stumbled back and clutched her now bruised nose.

She honestly hoped that not everybody were as built as he was, she might suffer from a self-image crisis.

"Watch where you're going," he hissed in annoyance before he unlocked the door and switched on the lights in the room. Travis scooted inside with a mumbled apology. He handed her the key that opened the door, stiffly wished her a goodnight and closed the door. As his footsteps faded down the hallway, Travis clutched the key in her right hand and stared at the room that stared silently back.

It was… small. Truth be told, she did not expect anything glamorous but the room was about the size of two dorm rooms squashed together. There was a double-sized bed pushed against a corner and beside it sat a small dresser with a table lamp. On the other side of the room, a small work table was pushed against the wall and a bookshelf was attached on the wall above it. To the side was a small wardrobe and beside it, a door that led to a small private bathroom. Travis breathed a happy sigh. At least it was an en suite bathroom. She didn't really want to face the others if she didn't have to. As anti-social as that may be, she did not want to be one to mess things up and send the universe askew. Her mouth quirked slightly when she realized the room had no windows. The caged metaphor never seemed more appropriate than now. Stuck in this fantastic reality… She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Now was neither the time nor place.

Travis turned on the small table lamp before she switched off the main lights. Then, she deposited the contents of her pockets onto the small dresser. The dim light bounced off her scratched up mp3 player and her well used wallet. She placed the keys that Scott gave her beside her wallet with a sigh. This was she had in her meager possession to start a new life. What a miserable joke.

She sat down on the bed in a melancholy mood and kicked off her hiking boots. Her hoodie, she draped on the back of the chair before she stripped off her jeans and t-shirt. In her underwear, she slipped under the covers tiredly. With a click, she switched off the table lamp and the room descended into darkness. As she tried to get comfortable, the only thought that permeated her head was that she hoped that when she woke up, everything will be back to normal.

And all that had transpired was simply a nightmare.

Just a very surreal and fantastic nightmare.

* * *

~*~

A/N: Hope I didn't butcher Gambit's accent too much!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

_Bang, bang, bang!_

Travis jerked into a sitting position on the bed. Wide-eyed and dazed, she tried to disentangle herself from the blankets but her short jerky movements only served to entangle her more. Were those gunshots or someone knocking on the door? Regardless of the cause, her response was one of habit rather than any sort of coherent thought. "I'm up, I'm up!"

"When you're ready, the Professor wants a word with you!" came the call from behind her door before the fading footsteps indicated the messenger had left. Travis blinked groggily from her bed. Who the hell was that? She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she tried to orientate herself. Gods, what happened last night? Did she drink too much again? Travis blinked owlishly as she surveyed her surroundings. The tiny windowless room was most definitely _not_ her tiny studio apartment at home. A hand came up to rest on her forehead as she tried to remember. She did not remember being invited to any parties. Her clothes, thankfully, hung from the back of a chair and she pushed herself out of the bed to dress herself.

She had the oddest dream too…

Then she froze.

Did the person say Professor? The Professor? Who was the Professor? Surely not her professor in charge of the research?! Travis swallowed a thick lump in her throat. Did she… did she get drunk with her professor?! Travis groaned and scrubbed at her face as if the action would erase how dirty she felt. She swore never to touch alcohol again… Though, considering how much she couldn't remember, it was probably a fair trade off for the lack of a hangover this morning. She stumbled to the door that led to a small bathroom and splashed water on her face. After she grabbed her belongings from the dresser and stuffed them into the pockets of her baggy jeans, she took a deep breath and exited the room.

…And stopped and stared at the multitudes of teenagers that roamed the hallways.

Travis' throat closed up. Where the _fuck_ was she?!

"There you are! We've been waiting for you!" someone called. Travis turned around to face a tall red-headed woman who had a figure that any living thing with eyes envied. Her entire being was warm, inviting and calm.

Travis blinked.

"Who are you?" she asked nervously and was received with a strange look.

"We met yesterday remember? Jean Grey? You came to speak to Professor Charles Xavier last night," the woman replied and Travis felt like she was going to have a panic attack. This was insane. Was she still dreaming? There was only way to find out. She did the most prudent thing she could think of in that situation.

She slapped herself.

Really hard.

In the face.

Ouch, that stung. Travis rubbed her face gingerly.

...

This was real.

_She_ was real.

Everything that she dreamt of really happened.

"Are you alright?" Jean Grey asked with concern and worry. It was not every day that she watched a girl willingly slap herself hard enough to leave a hand print. Travis could only nod dumbly. Fine. Just _peachy_. The teenagers were starting to stare, and more out her desire to make a good impression (those kids could smell weakness!) than her wavering sanity, she psychologically gathered herself up and gestured weakly to the redhead to lead the way. Jean smiled uncertainly in her direction as if unsure of what to make of the strange sleep-mussed brunette who was too afraid to speak lest she descended into fits of hysteria. The redhead prudently decided to avoid the possibility of an outburst and quickly led the way to the Professor's office. Dr. Grey had a class to teach and the strange newcomer was an unwanted diversion.

It was in a daze that Travis followed the telepathic redhead. Her eyes took in the surroundings that were bathed in natural light and the strange student body that occupied it. Some gave her curious looks but she passed them over without a second glance or thought. She saw but did not register. Despite the stinging on her cheek, everything felt detached and surreal. All she wanted to do was to find a nice hole to crawl into and sob to herself about how positively insane this all was. Pride (ie. The need to not cry in public in front of teenagers ready to rip her throat out) got in the way of that course of action. Pride and her detached sense of existence.

"Here we are," Jean finally announced when they stopped in front of a large mahogany door. She knocked before she pushed the door opened and gestured Travis in with a reassuring smile. The brunette returned it with an uncertain one of her own that screamed 'Please-get-me-outta-here!' before she stepped into the room. The doors closed behind with a quiet click that seemed to echo throughout the room.

Travis winced.

"Ah, there you are. I hope it wasn't too early of a wakeup call but the matter is urgent," the man in the wheelchair told her. Travis felt like hyperventilating all over again. Professor Charles _fucking_ Xavier gestured towards the leather sofa that she sat in last night with a tight smile.

"The expletives would be most unnecessary," he told her. Travis flinched. Oh right, the whole mind-reading thing. She quickly sat down.

"Tea? Or coffee?" he offered.

"YES!" she replied, a little too loud, a little too quickly. Flushed, she amended, "Er… tea… tea would be nice. Thanks."

He poured her a cup and she shakily added two sugars and a drop of milk. As she stirred the steaming beverage, he reached for a folder on his desk and pulled out a few sheets of paper. Then, he turned towards her, "I've just had a short meeting with the Jean, Scott, and Ororo. I think we've come up with some sort of compromise for you."

Travis froze in mid-stir.

"Compromise?" she squeaked. He smiled sympathetically in her direction, "Don't worry, it's nothing too strenuous. As you already know, we are a school. We all have some degree of responsibilities towards the students. How do feel about perhaps supervising a few extracurricular activities in return for your stay here?"

That didn't sound so bad. Travis nodded in acquiescence, "Urm… yeah, that sounds good… When you say extracurricular activities… ?"

"Oh perhaps the odd training session to ensure nobody got hurt? Some of the students had started club activities in the lounge and it'll be nice to have someone there to make sure they stay out of trouble. Nothing too complicated of course. Just the basics."

"Er… yeah… sure."

"Excellent! Shall we say first thing tomorrow? Of course, I'll advance a small sum to you to get you settled. Clothes and the like. We have spare toiletries that you could help yourself to. I'll ask Scott to take you to the local mall to get some things of your own. And of course, you'll be placed on the roster for kitchen and cleaning duties. Moreso than the others since they will need time to grade papers…" As the Professor rambled on about her responsibilities, Travis could only sit there, dumbstruck, as all she had worked for in the _real_ world slowly melted away. Travis the PhD student, the historical researcher, the medievalist, was being replaced by Travis the maid in front of her very eyes. And the Professor seemed to be oblivious to such an obvious and disconcerting though despite his abilities as a telepath.

"Any questions?" he asked her with a bright smile that jerked her out of her depressive reverie. She scratched the back of her hand, "Er…no?"

"Excellent!" was the exclamation and Travis winced as if it signed away her dignity, "Three o'clock sharp, Scott will meet you in the main hall to gather some supplies. I'd suggest you get some lunch in the kitchen and familiarize yourself with the student body."

Before she even managed to finish the cup of tea, he shooed her out because a trickle of students had already entered his office to begin their next lecture on Ethics. A few minutes later, Travis stood outside the large mahogany doors as the muted sounds of the lecture reached her ears. She ran a hand through her messy hair and sighed in defeat. This… this was not turning out to be such a great reality. She almost wished that she _was_ insane. At least insanity would be a bit more interesting than babysitting. Travis massaged her temples.

Right. Okay. Get a grip girl!

Now… where was the kitchen again?

Travis groaned. She had forgotten about her lackluster sense of direction. The short brunette hugged herself and glowered at the hallways that seemed to mock her.

Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.

To the right! With some resolution, she turned around and walked down the hallway with hopes of somehow, eventually, reaching the kitchen. Her stomach was grumbling something fierce and while the cup of tea was all well and good, she felt ravenous for something more substantial. She rounded a corner and stopped short. Her jaw dropped as she surveyed her scene.

She was in a large beautiful foyer that was lit by the multitude of floor length glass windows and a two large glass doors decorated in flower motifs. Through here, she had an amazing view of the large courtyard, complete with a fountain, a small pool and a basketball court. What was even more amazing was the small group of students who exercised their mutant powers under the direction of Scott in the courtyard. As she watched dumbstruck, she felt like she was going to have another attack if she didn't get out of there soon. With a complete 180 degree turn, she spun around and walked straight into the chest of something rock hard.

Travis cursed and clutched her nose. That was the second time in less than twenty four hours! Then she looked up… and up… and up. An extremely well-built young man stared down at her with concern.

"'Ello… are you okay?" he asked.

"Myeah, fine, just cool," she replied as she checked to see if her nose wasn't broken.

"Kin I 'elp you? You are new here?"

Travis managed a weak smile, "Heh…erm… yeah… do you know where the kitchen is?" He took a step back as he observed the petite woman in front of him with some degree of suspicion before he nodded.

"Ya, I take you?" he offered. She nodded and made a motion for him to lead the way. He flashed a toothy smile in her direction, "My name is Piotr. I am one of the students 'ere."

Travis swore her heart skipped a beat. Oh dear gods…

"Haaaah… really? You don't say," she wheezed… then smacked herself in the forehead at how lame she sounded. Honestly, you'd think by now she'd be used to this strange reality. She snorted. Like she'd _ever_ get used to this. Comic book characters were not supposed to walk around in real life.

"Vat is your name?"

"Huh? Oh… er… Travis," she offered.

"You student here too?" he asked as he rounded a corner. Travis scratched the back of her head somewhat guiltily. She was not used to lying at all, "Er… I'm sorta like the extra help, yeah?"

"I see," he replied, nodding before he led her through a doorway into the most massive kitchen that she had ever seen. There were _two _industrial-sizedrefrigerators… how much did the people here eat?! And this was just the kitchen. Through another door was the dining area that could accommodate up to thirty people at one time that was attached to a large lounge area with a giant flat screen tv. Travis let loose a low whistle.

"Maaaaaan… You guys sure know how to live it up," she murmured. He smiled at her before he gestured to the kitchen, "It is my turn to make lunch today, vould you like to help?"

She shrugged. There was nothing else to do.

"Sure why not. Could I have something to munch on first? I missed breakfast."

A buttered bagel and a glass of juice after, the two settled down to create a lunch fit for a sizable student body. The menu for the day seemed to be sandwiches and Piotr told her they were going to set up stations so that the students could pick what they wanted to fill their sandwiches with. Soon, he had her mixing tuna and mayonnaise into a bowl while he pulled apart heads of lettuce, and sliced tomatoes. Within moments, they had created an amazing sandwich station. Next, they set out large pitchers of juice and bowls of fruit. Just as Travis was adding ice into the pitchers, the students began to trickle into the kitchen noisily and full of life. They must have understood the drill because immediately, they lined up and talked amongst themselves while they made their own respective sandwiches. She leaned against the counter as she watched with a grin on her face. She never had her food appreciated by others like this before. Friends sure, but never at this magnitude. It made her feel appreciated in that warm and disgustingly fuzzy way.

"Hey Piotr!" came a cheery shout before a streak of brown passed in front of her to latch onto the massive youth. "Like, awesome stuff! Want a sandwich?"

"'Ello Kitty," he greeted, equally cheery before he gestured to his companion who seemed to be shirking away from the bubbly teenager, "Kitty, this is Travis. She's de new help."

"Er… hey there," Travis replied with a weak wave of her fingers. By now, all the attention was focused on her and she felt extremely nervous to be under the scrutiny of the world's future crime fighting force. They could squish her like a bug! Most of them could probably kill her just by looking at her… Oh gods… okay… keep cool now.

"Like hi! I'm Kitty. Welcome to the school! So like, what's your power?"

Travis looked at her blankly, "Wh-what?"

"Like your power? You know, your mutant power?" she repeated with a roll of her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Travis resisted the urge to massage her temples. This girl's cheeriness was refreshing but she wished the teen would tone it down a bit.

"Erm… I'd rather not say," she answered though in the back of her mind, she furiously tried to come up with an excuse or a suitable answer of some sort. The rest of the students were now eating their sandwiches and waiting for an answer.

"Oh c'mon. You can tell us. Us mutants gotta stick by one another," one of them called out from amongst the group. Travis looked up with some degree of alarm. Shit, now what?

"It's kinda lame," she offered but once the words were out of her mouth, they began coaxing her to reveal herself. "Okay! Okay! I… I… er… know… things."

"What, like before they happen?" Kitty asked with wide eyes. Travis winced, "What? Er… sort of…?"

"Wow! We should call you like… Oracle!" she gushed, "Or… or… Prophecy! Omigod, that's totally cool."

"What? No!" Travis replied, horrified at where this was going.

"I like Oracle! It has a nice ring to it," someone commented from the back and she felt a sudden urge to scream at them all.

"No! No… Just call me Travis, okay?" she asked beseechingly. Kitty was not one to let it go however, "How about Travis _the_ Oracle?"

"What? No! Just _Travis_."

"Aw c'mon, please? It'll be cool! I mean, I can phase through objects so like, Shadowcat, get it?"

"That's enough, child," came a stern but sincere voice and Travis almost breathed a sigh of relief when Kitty's face fell in disappointment. Piotr gave her a sympathetic pat on the back before the two mingled with the rest of the students and the lounge and dining area became a gentle buzz of activity and conversation. Travis was momentarily left alone with her savior and she breathed a sigh of relief before she turned around.

"Hey, thanks –" and stopped short. The woman she faced was _nothing_ like Halle Berry on screen. This woman was _definitely_ much more sensual and exponentially more primal. She positively radiated authority. Travis stood there and all but gaped at the dark-skinned white-haired beauty in front of her. The air seemed to cackle with energy as she stepped closer with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright? The Professor warned me you'd be a little overwhelmed by everything," she said.

"Urm… haaaah… er… yeah…" her throat had gone dry as she stared at the woman. She swallowed thickly and stuck out her hand rather awkwardly, "H-h-hi… I'm Travis." The woman chuckled as she took her hand firmly and shook it.

"I am pleased to meet you Travis. I am Ororo, one of the teachers at this school."

"Hmmm… hah.. hi… I'm Travis..."

Ororo quirked an elegant eyebrow in her direction with some degree of amusement, "Yes, you've already said that. Have you eaten?" Travis shook her head mutely. After that fiasco of a first impression, she didn't trust herself to speak… or form coherent thoughts.

"Here, take a seat. I'll fix us both a little lunch," she told her before she bustled about the sandwich station that was set up. Travis throat almost closed up at the thought of the two of them… alone… talking. She gulped audibly.

"What was that?"

"I didn't say anything!" squeaked Travis.

"Is tuna okay?"

"Yes!"

"Right… cheese?"

"Uh-huh!" Travis winced as her voice grew progressively squeakier. She coughed into her fist and cleared her throat loudly before she took a swig of juice… then proceeded to choke on the acidity of the liquid going down the wrong tube. Immediately, Ororo rushed to her side and thumped her on the back to help relieve the coughing fits. At this point, most of the student body had peeked in to watch the strange new arrival embarrass herself. Face flushed from the public humiliation, Travis painfully swallowed the juice that had lodged in her throat.

"Are you alright?" the weather witch asked with alarm.

"Hah… hah… yeah…" she replied with a wince. Someone in the back snickered, "For someone who's supposed to be an oracle, that was kinda pathetic."

"I never said I was an oracle," muttered Travis softly as she covered her face in her hands. Ororo gave the teenagers a disapproving look. With her hands on her hips, she gave them a strict dressing down, "That is no way to treat our newcomer. Travis is going to be your new supervisor."

There was a murmur amongst the teenagers and from the timbre of the buzz, Travis knew that the next few days were not going to be fun ones. She really just wanted to find a hole to crawl into and hide for the rest of her life.

"_She's_ our new supervisor? Can she even handle us?" came a familiar scornful voice. Travis peeked between her fingers to see a young man who stared defiantly at her. His fingers played with the zippo in his hands and he shot her a haughty look.

"I'm sure she can handle all of you just fine," Ororo replied firmly, "I'm sure the Professor will personally see that you all treat her with some respect. Now, I would suggest that you finish up lunch before getting to your afternoon classes."

The indirect threat at the mention of the Professor hung in the air and with another murmur, the students retreated back into the lounge to finish up their lunches and discuss this new development in their school life. Travis sighed. Now she needed to work extra hard to prove herself worthy. Just when her mind was slowly acclimatizing to the reality of her surroundings, _this_ had to happen.

What she didn't notice was that one of them had stayed behind until he cleared his throat. Travis looked up to come face to face with the actor who grew up in her hometown. He smiled an encouraging smile at her that would've made her weak in the knees… if she were sixteen.

"Er… yeah?"

"I want to apologize about that. John… he's not very… well…" the teen scratched the back of his head as he searched for the right word but evidently gave up when he stuck out his hand, "Hi, I'm Bobby."

Then he smiled a charming and disarming smile. If she were sixteen, she would've thrown herself at his feet and beg for a date. It was a good thing she wasn't but it bothered her how _everybody_ here was quite simply, gorgeous.

Travis shook his hand cautiously, "H-hello Bobby… I'm Travis."

"Welcome to Mutant High."

"'Chyeah, thanks for the invite."

He seemed a little taken back by her rather casual response but smiled his dimpled smile before he returned to the lounge with the rest of the teenagers. Travis huffed and ran a hand through her hair. That boy was dangerous. A sandwich on a plate was placed in front of her and Travis looked up to see a smiling Ororo.

"You'll do just fine," she reassured her with a sympathetic pat on the back.

"Well… at least one of them is on my side," Travis replied with a tired smile, "And thanks, for making the sandwich I mean."

"You're more than welcome. I should be off to prepare for my next lesson. Remember, Scott will meet you at the front at three. Don't be late," the mocha-skinned woman told her with a smile, then leaned in with a conspirational whisper, "He's a bit anal about tardiness."

With a wave of her elegantly tapered fingers, Ororo left. Travis took a second bite and grinned stupidly at herself.

Well… maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

----------

Optimism. Optimism was her downfall.

Travis panted as she rounded another corner and almost skidded on the marble tiling. What the _fuck_ was wrong with this place? Why can't she _ever_ find the places she wanted to go to?! She almost screamed in frustration when she glanced at a clock that hung on the wall. It read 3:15pm.

Mr. Scott Summers was going to shit himself… after he lazer-beamed off her head.

This was definitely not the way to win his sympathetic side after the fiasco of yesterday night. She rounded another corner and skidded to a halt in the kitchen.

"What?! You've _gotta_ be fucking shitting me!" she exclaimed at the empty kitchen, "I was _just_ in here!"

"Need help?" someone offered from behind her. Travis whirled around to come face to face with Bobby and almost shrieked with joy, "YES! Main hall, NOW." The teen chuckled as he led the way.

"It's no laughing matter," Travis grumbled, "Scott is going to kill me."

"Don't worry, his bark is worse than his bite," he told her. Travis made a face, "I hope not… that's kinda disgusting."

Bobby chuckled as they rounded a corner and immediately, Travis was confronted with over six feet tall of angry pissed-off Cyclops.

"_Where were you_?!"

"I got lost!" Travis protested with some desperation. She turned to get some help from Bobby but only saw the tips of his fingers as he waved his retreat. Travis scowled. The coward! Scott sighed a frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Right. Let's go… and we'll make it quick considering how much time you've already wasted," he told her sharply before he turned and walked away. Travis followed him meekly. This shopping trip was going to be hell if he planned to watch over her shoulder all the time. The two of them walked out of the main doors in silence . She trailed after him hesitantly as he walked down a used footpath to the garage. When he opened a door to the seemingly small building and they both stepped inside, Travis could not help the impressed whistle.

"Whooooaaa…"

Despite his attempts to hide it, Scott beamed proudly at her reaction. Here were his babies. Aside from the small collection of bikes, there were a few vintage cars that he had been tinkering around with. Travis peered wide-eyed around.

"You have a Cadillac?!"

"1959 Cadillac Convertible," he corrected rather proudly.

Travis gaped at him, "Okay… you've just grown infinitely cooler in my eyes."

He smirked, "I've always been cool."

Travis smartly kept her mouth shut and swallowed the obvious comment to make. "So which one are we taking?" She felt like rubbing her hands in glee.

"It's just a shopping trip," he said and though the visor hid his eyes, she suspected that he rolled his eyes at her.

"No to the Cadillac then…"

"Yeah. No to the Cadillac."

Travis shot the vintage car a wistful look before the two climbed into a very ordinary and unassuming Toyota Tercel. As they strapped themselves in the front seats, she still felt nervous being left alone with Mr. Grumpy-Pants-Boy-Scout for… who knows how long. She fidgeted with her hands. The car started and the seat rumbled beneath her. They were silent as he pulled out of the garage smoothly and started to drive away from the mansion. Travis looked out the side window. Everything was so different in the day time compared to her half-dazed confused night journey to the mansion. She hugged herself and allowed a serene smile to creep across her face as she leaned back to watch the fiery foliage in the dancing sunlight.

"Here," Scott said as he interrupted her content state. Travis twisted her head around and saw that he held out a card. She took it gingerly. It was a credit card. On the top where the word VISA should be were the letters ASIV. She scowled at the piece of plastic. It brought back the memory of being dragged out of the bank by two security guards. What the fuck was wrong with this world? …Aside from the genetic mutations… superpowers… and men who ran around in tights…

"It's yours now. There's no limit on it but part of your paycheque will automatically go towards paying off that bill every month. So don't go crazy with it," he told her in a disapproving tone that suggested she was some kind of shopaholic. Travis snorted quietly to herself.

"Yessir," she replied and he frowned at her. The car lapsed into silence again.

Travis exhaled sharply. Right. She needed to patch things up with Mr. Leader or else her existence here was going to be… well, hell. She spotted the plug that was attached to the car's stereo and immediately, twisted in her seat to try and reach the mp3 player in her pocket.

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply as he tried to concentrate on the road and not on the fact that the short girl seemed to be having a seizure beside him.

"Got it!" she exclaimed suddenly and whipped out the electronic device. Music usually made everything better. She turned to him with a grin, "Wanna listen to some music? What do you like to listen to anyways? Something old school?"

She snatched up the loose plug and once she unplugged her headphones, plugged it into her mp3 player. While the confused and surprised Scott tried to multitask, she started to flip through her massive library of songs. Then, as if suddenly realizing that he hadn't given her an answer yet, she looked up expectantly with a raised eyebrow. Scott was concentrating on the road.

"Weeelll??"  
"What?"

"What kind of songs do you like?"

"…I don't like music."

"…you _what_?"

"I don't like music," he repeated firmly. Travis stared at the man, flabbergasted, "What do you _mean_ you don't like music? Everybody likes music! It's… it's music!"

"Never got into it."

She stared at the driving man.

"…We're gonna have to remedy this, you realize."

At this, and very much to her surprise, he barked in laughter, "Jean has tried. I mean… songs are nice and all but really not my thing?"

"Even to serenade her with it?" Travis suggested slyly as she scrolled her playlist. He was silent for a few moments as he considered before he shook his head, "Oh come on, I can't sing. I'm the last person who would try!"

"If James Marsden can do it, so can you."

"Who's James Marsden?"

Travis paused. "Er… never you mind. Point is, don't know till you try."

He sighed, "You're never gonna let me get away with this are you."

Travis grinned before she hit the play button, "Nope. Okay, you strike me as a sorta classic rock kinda guy. How about this?"

…

"Actually, that's not bad..."

"Told ya'"

-----------

Hours later, Travis and Scott stumbled through the front door laden with bags. Jean rushed to meet them and relieve their burden. She greeted Scott with a peck on the cheek and Travis with a large bright smile, "Perfect timing! Dinner's ready. How was the shopping trip?"

"Alright," Scott grunted. Travis rolled her eyes. As if he had any idea. He had dumped her at the entrance, given her two and a half hours to pick up essentials and walked off towards the local Coffeebucks. Jean must've guessed (or read) her mind because she stifled a giggle, "Travis, here. Let me take those. You head on to the kitchen and help Ororo serve dinner. Even she can't control a giant group of rowdy hungry teenagers. We'll take these to your room."

Travis nodded as she handed the bags over. Kitchen. At least she knew where it was by now, especially after the afternoon. As the couple giggled and chatted all the way up the stairs, she turned resolutely away from the mushy scene. She massaged the back of her neck as she made her way to the kitchen area. It wasn't hard to miss, especially since dinner seemed to be the biggest event in the mansion. The noise that emitted from the lounge alone was enough to give her a headache.

"Travis! You've returned! Care to help me hand out some plates?" Ororo greeted her with a pleasant smile. Travis nodded and took up the duty. Evidently, the afternoon's mini meet-and-greet-your-new-authority-figure session had not boiled over because she received quite a few stares from the student body. Most, thankfully, were of amusement though there seemed to be a couple of hostile and suspicious ones. Some were, like Bobby, Kity, and Piotr, encouraging, of which she was thankful for. She smiled a tired smile back in return that felt more like a wince than anything else. The three teens gave her a sympathetic look. Travis exhaled through her mouth. This felt a bit like having detention in High school all over again.

Having served the students, Ororo and Travis settled down to serve themselves just as Jean, Scott, and the Professor came in. Once they had packed their plates with food, they sat down at a separate table nearest the large bay window in the lounge. Apparently, this was the 'grown-ups' table since the rest of the teenaged population seemed to avoid it like social suicide. Travis poked at a baked potato with her fork as she took wistful glances towards the carefree teenagers. She missed home. Here, at the table, she just felt all the more isolated and restrained. She popped the now holey potato in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. She wondered how she even got here in the first place.

"…so what do you think Travis?" Ororo asked and she jerked out of her thoughts in surprise.

"Uh…? Huh? What?"

Scott sighed, "At this rate, you're never going to get the students here to respect you." Travis scowled into her plate. Not everybody was or should be a born leader. If that was the case, anarchy would ensue. As the inner Travis giggled at the thought of Scott having to reason with anarchist teenagers, the outer Travis maintained a cool appearance.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I'm afraid I was… thinking." She beamed inwardly. Now that was a mature and grown up response to his pigheaded comment.

"Some of the students had shown some interest in other subjects that would replace training with Scott," Ororo explained. The visor-ed man scoffed, "They have no reason to skip training practices. That's the whole reason they're here. To learn how to control their powers."

"Yes, but not all the students have powers that require physical training," Ororo argued.

"Look, if you can think of a better way to train their powers, I'm open to any suggestions that you might have."

"Scott, that's not the point. Physical training can only go so far."

"It doesn't matter anyways since we're understaffed," he pointed out with some degree of smugness.

"Which was why I asked Travis for her opinion. What do you think?" the weather witch asked her. Travis blinked; she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to say…

"Erm… I… agree? I mean… physical training just sounds like enforced gym class to me," she offered. It must have been the right answer because Ororo shot Scott a triumphant look. He scowled back.

"I don't see how having a music or art lesson could possibly help with developing control."

"That's not completely true," Travis interrupted with a frown. Though she was an Arts student for most of her university career, she had a passion in the fine arts and to hear Scott knock it down so quickly made his attack a tad personal. Her fork pushed a piece of sliced ham around on her plate as she considered her reply, "I mean… the fine arts work a different part of your brain and requires just as much concentration and focus as any physical activity, maybe even more. Just because you're physically fast doesn't mean your mental capacity is anywhere near your physical one."

"Well said Travis," the Professor applauded and she blushed at the praise. "Does that mean you have volunteered for the first session?"  
"Yeah I guess I – wait, what?"

"The rest of us are too busy holding down our own lesson plans to incorporate the fine arts element in the studies. Now, with your arrival and addition to our staff, we could finally establish a fine arts component."

Travis blanched.

Evidently, her reply to Ororo had been the wrong one.

"I..I… …. Erm… I-I…"

"Of course, we won't force you (Travis calls bullshit) into anything that you won't want to do and I completely understand if…" The Professor started to drone on and on about responsibilities and his understanding of her situation. Deep down, she knew that he really didn't. How could he? She came from another _world_.

"Y-y-yea… I guess I can do it," she agreed albeit a bit reluctantly, "I mean… it'll be all I can do to repay you for your hospitality."

"Are you sure? We could give you a week to get comfortable."

"Y-y-yeah… and maybe I'll figure something out…"

"Excellent!" the Professor exclaimed and clapped his hands together with excitement, "Perhaps you could come to me once you've established a solid lesson plan. In the mean time, there are a few extra-curricular student-led activities you could just monitor in the lounge area. Nothing too complicated of course, I mean, it's just –" and he continued to talk. At this point, Travis had retreated inside her head and wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible before they managed to rope her into performing any more responsibilities. How she got here be damned. Now that she was here, she needed all the energy she got to deal with this lot.

A few mouthfuls later, Travis excused herself from the table, washed up her dishes and hurried back upstairs. She desperately needed some alone time. Once she was safe in her own room, she breathed a sigh of relief and massaged her forehead. The bags of shopping were placed neatly to one side of the room and she groaned to herself. Those needed to be sorted out as well. She trumped over and settled down on the floor beside the multitude of bags.

Essentials first.

She separated the toiletries that she bought from the bags and placed them all in a pile. Though Xavier told her that the school had their own supply of toothpaste, shampoo and the like, she wanted to be able to pick some up for herself. It made her feel a bit more in control of her newly found strange existence. She scooped up all the toiletries and carried them into the small washroom. Once everything had been put away, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Ugh, she looked horrible.

A hand ran through the messy long hair only to get tangled up at the ends. Travis exhaled. She needed a haircut but it seemed like such a shame to part with her locks. And now, the thought of cutting off her hair made her sick. The act meant an acceptance of everything that had transpired. Though she was more or less (shall we say 60%?) certain that she wasn't insane, she faced this reality with a detached sense of self.

Like floating… as if she watched from above the clouds at her doppelganger.

Travis turned on the tap and splashed her face with water.

This was ridiculous. Here, she had a job (not the best but decent enough) and her professionalism (hah! What professionalism?) needed to shine through. She took a deep breath. Xavier had briefed her earlier that morning about her responsibilities tomorrow. She needed a good night's rest. A yawn forced itself out of her mouth and she sighed. This felt horribly depressing. As she went back to sort out her new belongings, she wondered when Logan would get here.

She knew now that she was in more or less, the movie version of the story. Bobby and John being best friends _at_ the mansion was clue enough. If this were any other version, Bobby would be whopping the pyromaniac's hot-tempered behind from here to the next storyline.

Travis massaged her temples.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

~*~

A/N: Failed Russian accent aside, this had been a pretty fun chapter to write. Please leave a review to tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

Much to her surprise, the next two and a half months flew by quickly. Though it took a while for her to get over the fact that she was _here_, life settled down amazingly quickly. In fact, her days became tediously routine. She took up the role of resident supervisor and music teacher. Her so-called duties were laughable. All she had to do was to make sure the students didn't kill each other during their club activities. That meant refereeing the odd basketball game or whatever random sports they had gotten their hands on or invented. These clubs were more or less cliques that had popped up within the small student population. Thanks to the Professor's teachings, they were more or less docile and Travis often found herself being bored to tears.

Despite being only a few years older, the students treated her as an adult figure. Her relationships with them were more or less… non-existent. Though she insisted being on a first-name basis, they were still distant. It was highly likely that it was mostly because of her really lame mutant power (ie. none). Though none of them knew she was not a mutant, Professor Xavier had forbidden her to leave the mansion unless she was accompanied by Scott, Jean, Ororo, or himself. Travis thought it was a ridiculous rule to impose on her. There hadn't been any kidnapping attempts the few times she did venture out. It was probably because _nobody _here even knew she existed.

Life at the X-mansion wasn't how Travis imagined it. For one thing, she thought she'd at least have some friends. Storm and Jean were always busy with one thing or the other. Plus, she always felt rather inadequate when they're around. They were a walking reminder of her short stocky frame and small breasts. The two women, like in the comics, were toned, well proportionate women who oozed self-confidence and sexuality. It was a bit ridiculous since _everybody_ in the mansion was like that. Travis felt like she had literally been dropped into a Hollywood version of the Xmen. Though at second thought, that was probably what had happened...

Despite all that, she managed to find some solace in the Music Room.

The room itself, hidden away in the eastern wing of the mansion, was not acoustically perfect with its high box tile ceilings but was decorated in the same warm wood tones of the Professor's study. On one side were large glass windows attached to a hanging balcony that looked out to the side of the mansion with an amazing view of the surrounding wooded area. Opposite the windows were a few storage cupboards and right in the middle of the room sat a beautifully tuned grand piano.

It was love at first sight.

The next few days after this discovery were spent in seclusion as Travis rekindled her passion for music. Old pieces she had long memorized flowed from her fingers and a dusty digging through the cupboards uncovered an out-of-tune violin, and a couple of unstrung guitars. This started her musical re-education.

Eventually, all the noise had attracted some of the students and a few even asked for lessons. Delighted with this new found hobby, Travis jumped into the role enthusiastically. She begged Scott to take her to the mall and procured a few amazing speakers which she managed to set up successfully in the Music room. It became a general hang out place where music would always be playing. With a cheeky grin, she went to the Professor and allocated a _General Music Interest_ class in a time slot. It was basically a music appreciation class as a result of the reaction she got from Scott on the first day. They were welcomed to stay and use the space however they liked as long as they liked the music. Every fifteen minutes, she switched the genres of music and if people found it not to their tastes, they left. Eventually, she managed to set up a music collection in the room for students to browse by burning songs from her massive mp3 player collection. Everything from Classical to alternative Rock was made available.

Being a bit of a Jack-of-all-trades when it came to instruments, Travis also began to give out basic instrumental instruction. Very quickly, she discovered there were a few students who were more talented with certain instruments and managed to set up a buddy system where those more skilled would teach those who wanted to learn. At the end of it all, she had managed to run a rather impressive music program. And though most of the students remained distant, she wrapped a protective warm blanket of music around her that made her happy in her existence there.

Then, it happened.

She would remember that date for the rest of her life.

* * *

It was the twenty-second of December.

Christmas was just around the corner and the atmosphere in the mansion was festive. Sometimes, a bit too festive for her taste as they were a reminder that she was not actually in her own home. Still, she made do with what she had. The music room was decorated by a few enthusiastic students who had taken it upon themselves to spread the disgustingly happy Christmas cheer.

Travis hummed to herself contently as her foot tapped in time to the music that blared from her newly acquired headphones. She was seated on the far side of the courtyard and kept a relaxed eye on the teenagers who skated around a makeshift ice-rink that had been set up, courtesy of Bobby. Her sigh of content steamed as she leaned back to look at the sky. It was the Christmas season. Here, stretched out on this bench and bundled up in a warm coat, she never felt more peaceful in her life. Bare branches of trees reached up to touch the clear sky and she reached out in imitation with a silly grin on her face. She didn't have to think or worry while she sat out there, staring at the sky.

And of course, since she jinxed herself, a tiny pebble bounced off the back of her head and disturbed her peace.

Immediately, Travis jerked upright and pulled her headphones off. She twisted around on the bench to find who threw the rock. From behind the giant oak near the large wall that surrounded the mansion's grounds, her eyes locked with familiar red on black ones. Travis blinked and stared at him in shock. He waved his fingers at her with a grin before he gestured for her to come closer.

Travis chewed on her bottom lip in thought. Then, with a quick and slightly anxious glance at the teenagers to see if they noticed, she quickly got off the bench and headed towards the direction of the oak.

"'ello petite, miss me?" he asked with a grin as he leaned against the concrete wall with his arms crossed. Travis stuffed her hands into her coat pockets with a grimace. He looked the same, trenchcoat and all, despite the cold.

"Aren't you cold dressed like that?"

"Why? You wanna help Remy warm up?" he asked flirtatiously. Travis rolled her eyes though deep, deep inside, the inner Travis screamed a heartfelt YES! YES! Take me here now you Cajun! But she was better than that. So, she ignored her inner self.

"What do you want LeBeau?"

"Remy say he will find you so here he is!" he replied with a flourish of his hands and a mocking bow.

"I can see that, but what do you want?" she asked patiently. She was pretty sure that he was not supposed to be here… especially with the mansion's security system. The last thing she wanted was to try and explain why and how she knew him to the Professor. And knowing his character, he was probably up to something…

"'member when we first met?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You need to keep your part of the promise petite."

Travis blinked. What was he talkin- … Oh.

"You want to know how I know who you are?" she asked thought it sounded more like a statement than a question. He nodded with a charming though dangerously predatory smile.

"Remy's life story non' so easy to get out an' you know everyting." He fidgeted with a card in his hands. Her eyes locked on his twirling hands. She wasn't sure if he fidgeted because he was nervous or if he was perhaps contemplating her murder.

Travis sighed in defeat and ran a hand through her hair, "I think that I should warn you that it's very hard to believe."

"Try." That was more of a command than a request.

"Right," Travis sucked in a deep breath before she explained everything in an exhale, "I'm from another world where everything that happens in this world is manufactured by a comic book company called Marvel. And you're one of the characters."

"…"

"And I'm not crazy."

"…"

"Don't look at me like that! You said you wanted to know!" she accused with a huff, "So that's my end of the promise. Even though your help wasn't that great. I mean, all you did was toss me loose change!"

"Petite… you sure you non' crazy?"

"YES!" she snapped irritably. She hadn't dealt with this disbelief in over two months and now that Remy was here, it brought up the whole uncomfortable subject of how and why she was here in the first place.

He raised his hands in a placating manner, "Sorry petite. It just hard to believe."

She sighed, "I know."

Then she paused.

"Wait… you mean you believe me?"

"It's hard but don't see why not. Remy been through a lot an' he know you non crazy. But you know dat already oui?"

Travis exhaled though she did not know what to make of this new development with the Cajun… he was after all, someone outside the mansion. Still, this whole exchange felt slightly liberating.

"Anyways, why are you standing behind the tree?"

"Here? Dis de best hiding spot from security cameras," he replied with a secret wink. Despite herself, Travis had to grin in reply, "Guess I'll have to keep that in mind if I'm planning my escape."

He frowned at this statement, "Why? Dey don't let you run around?"

Travis made a face, "Yeah, the Professor thinks I'm going to get kidnapped or something if people found out my origins and what I know. It's ridiculous." He raised both eyebrows.

"Why petite? 'Ow much do you know?"

"Enough… I think I know what's going to happen… Actually, about 90% sure what's going to happen…. Assuming it starts to happen…" she mumbled vaguely. The Cajun frowned in her direction.

"You non' makin' any sense."

"I know," she said with a sigh and rubbed at her forehead, "It's… a little bit overwhelming." But she looked up and smiled brightly in his direction, "I try not to dwell too much on it."

"Dat's good, I tink… Petite? Petite! What's wrong?"

Travis had doubled over and laid trembling on the ground. She gulped on air desperately in hopes of relieving some of the pain that had pierced every part of her body. Though Remy fretted about her, she was deaf to his worried exclamations.

It started as a throbbing pain from the very center of her and escalated to a virtual hum. She dug her hands into the cold earth in hopes of trying to control the pain that vibrated through her. Everything shook and she clenched her teeth in fear of crying out lest he be discovered. Her head spun from the effort and an anguished half grunt and growl tore itself out from her throat. Amidst the excruciating pain, it felt as if her stomach was going to be sucked into herself. She clutched her middle desperately. Her head throbbed and her entire body seemed to phase in and out of existence. Remy's hand reached out to hold her steadily. His voice echoed somewhere in the back of her mind but she could not make out any of the words. A desperate hand groped for his and once he gave it, she clung on for dear life. The physical contact seemed to steady her spinning mind.

Though it was over in mere minutes, it felt like hours. She laid limply on the ground as she heaved, sweated, and trembled. The entire experience was surreal. It was incredibly hard to describe… the only thing that could come close in her mind was physically experiencing white noise in every part of her body. It felt as if her entire body had become one giant 'channel-not-found' TV screen.

"Petite? Petite? Can you hear me?" the Cajun's voice slowly came into focus. Travis grunted an affirmative. She was too exhausted and weak to really do anything, much less to muster up the strength in her vocal chords to form words.

"Remy gonna help get you attention, oui Petite? You non go anywhere, Remy will go but Remy will get help," he told her hastily. He pressed a chaste kiss on her sweating forehead and then, was gone.

The next thing she knew, she heard worried fuzzy voices around her. After that, her consciousness slipped in and out. First, she was on the ground surrounded by a group of worried chattering teenagers, the next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to the hallways of the schools flying by. She closed them again only to open them to see herself staring up at round sterile florescent lights and the worried faces of Jean and the Professor.

"_Everything will be alright Travis. Just relax and let us take a look at what's wrong…_" came the soothing voice of Xavier in her head. Her eyelashes wavered before they closed.

Then, everything slipped into a peaceful serene darkness.

* * *

Her eyes were heavy and her mind felt foggy as if a blanket of sleep suffocated her head. Through her lashes, she saw the same steel sterile ceiling that she lost consciousness to. The outline of blurry forms moved around her and through her groggy hearing, it was as if someone was trying to tell her something. The lights flashed painfully in her eyes and she closed them. She felt cold and warm at the same time. She must've trembled because someone placed a heavy blanket over her and she grunted at the added weight. A cool hand pressed against her forehead.

Her world exploded into a myriad of lights.

She was at home in her apartment. The clock on the microwave blinked 8:30 and her heart thudded in her ears. She was going to be late! Lateness as a TA was not to be tolerated. With high and somewhat desperate hopes that her things were already in her backpack, she snatched it up along with her keys and banged the door shut. As she hurried down the stairs, the next door neighbor, Max, was just stepping out of his own door to head to work. He waved a friendly hello and she waved back. It was the usual meaningless common pleasantries in the morning but this time, she was running late. She dashed out of the front door of the small four story apartment complex and rushed to the bus stop.

Only to watch helplessly as the bus pulled away.

With a choice swear word from her extensive vocabulary, she started to power-walk down to the bus stop about five blocks away to catch a different bus. The express bus wouldn't take as long of a time as her usual bus… so long as she caught it in time. She fiddled around in her pockets to fish out her mp3 player and shoved the earbuds in. The trumpet introduction to one of Cat Empire's song came on when she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her head and a sickening twist in her stomach. It felt like an onset of a delayed hang over. Did she drink yesterday?

She felt sick to her core. She leaned against a tree and promptly dry heaved…

And then she jerked awake. Someone spoke softly and gently to her. With a firm hand, she was pushed down again. She shuddered as another nervous wave of trembles wracked her body. There were more murmurs that she couldn't make out. There was a flash of red from the corner of her eyes. Her confused mind thought it looked a lot like flash of fire.

Did the fire just speak to her?

Something cool pressed against her burning forehead and she slowly allowed herself to relax… maybe she was actually going crazy… If she was, there was no point in fighting it really…

She was on the main street downtown. Closed shops loomed on both sides of her as she stumbled along, giggling and laughing with her friends. They had just left a pub and on top of the pitchers they ordered, they had each taken a couple of shots for the road. The combination of whiskey, rum, and tequila worked quickly on their systems as the group of friends slowly made their way down to the beach. It was a cool summer night and they collapsed onto the sand, all the while giggling like school children who had just stolen from the teacher's desk.

"What are you gonna do when you graduate, Trav?"

"I dunno man… Hah, maybe I'll go back to school. I like the torture."

"Can you imagine you teaching?"

"Fuck, you're kidding right? People keep asking me if I'm gonna become a teacher. FUCK no."

There was a chorus of laughter.

"Trav? You ok man? You don't look too good."

"H…-urk!"

Her stomach heaved. Then, the sky spun out of control.

* * *

Travis blinked blearily up at the ceiling. Where was she? The blanket of suffocation was gone. She slowly shifted herself. Her joints felt stiff as if she had been bedridden for a long time. Travis wiggled her toes and slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She was in the same sterile room that they had initially brought her to. The muscles in her body stretched as she tried to get the blood flow going through her body again. Gingerly, she massaged her legs. They felt dead and lifeless. It was as if she had been sick for a while. As she glanced around her surroundings, she recognized the room to be Jean and the Professor's underground secret but not-so-secret medical lab. A frown marred her forehead as she considered why they had placed her here instead of her own assigned room to recover. The last thing she wanted to be, apart from make-shift babysitter, was medical experiment. Travis rubbed her temples and turned her head before she froze at what she saw in the next table over.

It was the man himself.

Logan. Wolverine.

Well fuck.

Travis was suddenly unable to move. Her eyes were mesmerized by the still and shirtless form in front of her and not just because of the chiseled body. The subject of posters, images, comics, movies, not to mention a massive fan base laid just a few feet from her. Her breath stopped. She felt like hyperventilating.

He can't be real. He can't be real. He can't be real…

Can he?

She willed her body to move but was unable to snap out of it. The man in front of her had an uncanny resemblance to Hugh Jackman in the films except for one key difference.

He, most definitely, was _not_ Hugh Jackman.

Like all the other comic book counterparts, the unconscious form before her exuded something intense, as if the essence of the very character radiated from his being. This was Wolverine. Wolverine with a capital 'W', and usually followed by several exclamation marks. Hugh Jackman would have never been able to encompass the very meaning of the person lying before her, regardless of how much training he had. From where she was, she was unable to see him very clearly but the impression was all she needed.

A shudder ran through her body. This was just too weird. The number one pop culture icon in her world… and he was lying, unconscious on a lab table across from her. Was she still dreaming? Travis held her arm out and pinched herself… and winced. Nope, this was real alright.

The door to the right hissed open (Travis could not believe that the door ACTUALLY hissed open) and who else but Jean Grey stepped through. At first, the tall redhead stopped in mid-step when she saw her.

"Oh! Travis! You're awake! Hang on, let me let the Professor know," she said with a bright smile. Travis smiled uncertainly back. The smile itself was genuine but she knew that deep down, Dr. Grey's own strangely out of character happiness was probably linked to the now unconscious man lying on the table. He wasn't even awake and Travis could already feel the electricity cackle between them. She grimaced inwardly; she had never been a fan of the pairing. Jean concentrated for a moment before she looked back at her with a wide smile.

"The Professor's expecting you once you're ready to be out and about. But take your time." Travis nodded in understanding before she glanced back hesitantly at the still form of Wolverine. Jean cocked her head to one side with a soft smile, "I see you've met our new arrival."

Travis blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, "Urm… sure. Wait… how long was I out?"

"Almost two months now I think. We've both tried to raze you out of your sleep but something kept holding you back," she informed her as she busied around the lab to prepare the materials to check on her new patient. Travis knew that those preparations were probably be in vain but figured that it was best to see it being played out instead of getting involved. On the other hand, she was genuinely disturbed by the fact that she had been unconscious for the past two months.

"Did… did anything happen?" she asked tentatively though she was not sure if she wanted to know the answer. Jean glanced at her again with a friendly look, "It's best to ask the Professor. He was with you most of the time that you were unconscious."

Of course he was. The bald man wanted to get inside her head and figure out what sort of dangerous information she might hold against him. Probably.

"Oh… so…" Travis glanced at the newcomer with a bit of curiosity, "When did he arrive?"

"Just today actually. Scott and Ororo brought back a girl who was travelling with him also. They were attacked before they could get to them on time. Managed to get them here in one piece though… well…. Sort of," she muttered as she started to examine the man's bandaged wounds.

Travis looked away. She knew what was going to happen anyway, and what Jean was going to get from her inspection. As Jean slowly inspected the specimen on the table gently with her eyes, she began to prepare the IV needle. From the doctor's sudden gasp, Travis knew that Logan was awake and probably had been for a while. She glanced over to see that Logan had already broken the needle and had his arm around the doctor's throat.

Though she knew what to expect, the sight was still a bone chilling one. She knew what his stamina and strength was capable of. So, she sat there, frozen to the make-shift bed as she stared at the sight. Logan himself looked a bit uncertain and unsure of himself as he stared at the choking doctor. His other arm was already out, ready to unsheathe the claws that he hid beneath his knuckles. Travis' breath caught in her throat. She couldn't exhale the breath that she didn't know she took.

Slowly, painfully slowly it seemed, he turned his head to look at her and she got a good look at his face. His jaw was more square and his brows were more furrowed than his real world counterpart. It was definitely not Hugh Jackman. Hugh Jackman could never hope to be this scary. His intense eyes locked on hers and her eyes widened as he stared at her with a look of what seemed to be familiarity and confusion. It was as if he had recognized her somehow… but that was impossible. It probably was all in her head. Or at least, she really hoped so. The look only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity to Travis and all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole so that he'd stop looking at her.

He dropped Jean to the ground and she scooted back in fear as she coughed and tried to regain her breath. Travis was unable to move as he took two steps towards her with a frown of concentration.

"I… I know your smell…" he murmured as his eyes pierced her to the cot. Travis' eyes only widened even further as she clutched the sheets beneath her. Her vocal chords refused to work as he stared at her with such intensity. Impossible. It was impossible. This was impossible. Impossible, impossible, impossible... Oh gods… she felt faint.

He half grunted and half snarled as if his reaction answered all the questions in his mind. One last look at her and then back at the redhead on the floor who looked at both of them with disbelief before he took off through the Star Trek hissing replica door.

Travis stared after him. Her mind refused to work. Smell? He knew her smell?

No. Fucking. Way.

And with that, just to add irony to injury, she fainted.

* * *

When she came to, the resident redhead was standing over her with a look of worry.

"Travis? Are you alright?" she asked as she pressed a cool hand against the girl's forehead. Travis grunted.

"Yeah, just feeling kinda sick of being unconscious… How long was I out that time?"

"Only a few minutes. He's left… I think the Professor's luring him to his office."

"So what do you think doc? Am I alright to walk?" she asked with a wry grin. Jean stood back with a tired smile, "No better time than the present to test that out. The Professor's expecting us in one of the lecture rooms."

"Of course he is," Travis muttered as she gingerly swung her legs over and stepped down onto the floor. Quietly and swiftly, she followed Jean out of the medical lab and into a sterile hallway. On one end, there stood the familiar leather uniforms with the door of one slightly ajar. Travis did not need to examine the cupboard to know that one of the sweatshirts was missing. As she shuffled after Jean into the elevator in silence, her palms sweated in anxiety. She did not know how she was going to handle facing Wolverine again. Much less the Professor, especially when she did not know the reason why or how to explain to him Wolverine's reaction to her...

There was a cheesy elevator _'ding_' before the door rotated open and the two stepped out before the door swung close again. Travis was back in the now familiar part of the mansion. Though she had spent the last few months within these walls and they still did not feel like home. As Jean continued to walk down the hallways, Travis followed, all the while, she nervously fidgeted and fretted. When they finally came to a stop at a doorway to one of the lecture rooms, Jean walked in while Travis strayed behind and hid behind Ororo's and Scott's back.

"I believe you've already met Dr. Jean Grey," the Professor commented as the redhead strode through the room to stand by him. Travis watched as Logan's eyes followed Jean's form before he turned back to lock eyes with her. Travis swallowed a lump in her throat.

"And you?"

"Erm… Travis," she managed to squeak out.

With a frown, the Professor focused on her, "Travis? Would you mind giving us a few moments? You were gone for a couple of months and I'm sure the students would love to see that you are finally out and about."

Sullenly, she nodded, left, and closed the door behind. With a huff, she marched straight towards the music room, feeling like a chastised child with every step. Not even a hello, oh how nice to see you're up from the Professor. When she finally burst into her sanctuary, she was surprised by the amount of students who greeted her with genuine concern.

"Travis! You're up!" Kitty exclaimed as she rushed over and enveloped her into a tight hug. Travis wheezed and awkwardly patted the teen on the head, "Urm… nice to see you too."

Bobby and John came over with a new girl in tow. She did not need to be introduced to know who this particular new member of the gang was.

"Travis, this is Rogue. She's new here at Mutant High," Bobby told her as the girl gave her an uncertain and shy smile. Travis smiled tiredly back, "Hey Rogue. Welcome to the music room. Are you settling in alright?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied quietly in her lilting southern accent. As Bobby and John excitedly told her about the events that had transpired since she was in a coma, Travis could not help but examine the shy young woman who stood in front of her. Though shy, she could feel the energy that radiated from the young girl. Like the others, she held power and potential that was unlike any other. Her face was a lot more angular and her eyes a lot warmer than in the movie though at the moment, they held a light of confusion and a thirst for acceptance. Yet with it, there was a strange fierceness that the girl probably unconsciously held. Travis had to smile to herself. It was probably why Bobby was drawn to her in the first place.

"Teach, you wanna sit?" John asked, his hands constantly flicking the zippo lighter open and close. Travis winced, "You know you should never call me that. It makes me feel ancient."

The pyro shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. His was of complete nonchalance though for some reason, Travis thought she saw a flicker of concern from him which was strange since she was used to his animosity. She wondered if Bobby or Rogue had anything to do with this.

"Well," she said after she cleared her throat and beamed at the group of teens in the room, "I'm glad to see that you guys haven't utterly destroyed the place. So just go on about your merry way. You know the rules. I'm gonna be lazy and go for a walk."

"You want us to like… come with you? Just in case something happens?" Kitty asked with concern. Though refreshingly delightful, Travis was in no mood to entertain another.

"No, no," Travis replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I'm fine. I'm not that old yet. Besides, I just really want some fresh air."

With that, she left the teens in charge of her precious sanctuary. She did snatch up her precious mp3 player from the shelf though. A lovely walk in the spring weather with some choice tunes was just what she needed and craved. This new development was not only disturbing but nerve wrecking as well. What did Logan mean when he said he knew her smell? She headed to the large expanse of the mansion inaptly named the 'backyard'. She seated herself near the fountain, and with the headphones in, she pondered this new predicament.

There was no way that he had met her before… It was an impossibility. She was sure of it. It was probably all on his head. He was probably confused. Besides, in the first movie, Wolverine had no recollection of his origins… or even who Sabertooth was. If they had met previously, there was no way that he would've remembered her particularly. Travis shuddered. She hoped she will never meet his nemesis. Wolverine had left a bad enough impression on her sanity. Sabertooth would push her over the edge. With a sigh, she sank into the bench. She had been up for less than an hour and already, she felt as tensed and as nervous as if she had just arrived here in this strange universe.

Then, amidst the music that played and the small tendrils of cold sunlight, she felt the Professor in the back of her head.

"_Travis? Come to my office at once. There's something we have to discuss._"

She sighed.

And here we go.

* * *

A/N: Well, there's chapter 3. Sorry it took me a while... a loooong while. Hopefully it didn't disappoint. There's a bit more plot development now... sorta. Anyways, R & R! Let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

It was with quite a bit of caution that Travis stepped into the Professor's study. He was turned around, his back towards her, looking out the large bay windows. They were the only two people in the room and the tension was... terrifying. Travis shut the door quietly behind her, scooted to the front of the desk and waited to be spoken to.

"Have a seat," came the even voice behind the chair.

Travis dropped into the chair accordingly.

There was a long suffering sigh before the chair swivelled around and she found herself face to face with the telekinetic bald man yet again.

"Travis," he began, as he laced his fingers together in front of him and paused. She could feel her heart clawing out of her chest. Oh gods... what was it now. She hated how this place made her feel this anxious. These were the good guys for crying out loud!

"What happened to you that day?" he asked, face full of concern. "Nobody knew what had happened. The students found you writhing on the ground in pain. There were footsteps around your body in the snow that did not belong to anybody at the school... What happened?"

Travis fidgeted involuntarily in the chair, "I don't know. I know it's hard to believe... I don't know what happened."

She proceeded to tell him of what she felt like on that day... the agonizing pain that vibrated from inside her that seemed to be pulling at her in every direction. How she had lost consciousness and what she saw when she flashbacked to her past before this whole insane Marvel universe thing happened. She left out the whole part about Gambit though. She wasn't technically lying. She just didn't mention it. He didn't bring that up specifically so... she was going to try and keep that alliance hidden for as long as possible.

When she had finished recalling the events that led to her waking up on a cold steel table with Wolverine breathing down Jean's neck, the Professor looked at her with an unreadable expression. She fidgetted again. She felt like the good kid in school being caught in the wrong place at the wrong time awaiting punishment from the principal. Throughout the whole thing, there was a tickle in the back of her mind and she knew that he was trying to sift though her memories.

She grimaced and scratched at the back of her head, trying to hint at her discomfort with his intrusion into her mind. Whether or not he took the hint however, he showed no sign.

"I can't help you if you won't let me, Travis," he finally said after a while of silence.

"I really... I really don't know what happened." It was the truth. Not the whole truth but definitely the truth.

He sighed again. She was starting to really hate the sound of people sighing at her.

"I know. But anything else that you could remember would give us more information on your predicament."

Travis nodded absently. In her time here, she has learned quickly that she should just go along with everything. It ends up being less painful and annoying that way.

"We will have to keep a closer watch on you in case this happens again," he continued, "Those footsteps worry me. It worries me that someone out there might know about you but even more so, I fear for the students here. Anonymity is their best defence right now and I am not willing to risk that for their sake."

Her stomach dropped.

Great.

Exactly what she needed. Being on lockdown. She couldn't even leave the mansion by herself and now, it sounded like she wouldn't be able to scratch her ass without someone there taking notes.

When she left the office, she was in a sour mood before. As she made her way into the kitchen, she thought wryly that perhaps she should've tried to blackmail Remy to get her out of here.

"Who are you."

Travis froze in mid-step on the cold tile floor and looked up to stare at the man who had addressed. A hairy, stocky man who could rip her apart with less than a pinky finger.

"I'm... Travis?" she replied, a bit confused as to why he's asking. She wanted to shrink against the wall and disappear. The last thing she wanted was more attention from _anybody_.

"Why do I know your smell."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement and as he stepped towards her with a frown creased into his forehead, Travis fought the urge to gasp for air and take off running and screaming like a madwoman. He would catch her anyway...

Her mind fought to work as she digested his words.

"You... what?"

Her back touched the wall and she whimpered to herself. She hadn't realize that he had been he had been backing into a corner. She was trapped and there's a crazed man with steel claws in front of her.

"I. Know. Your. Smell," he growled and the crease in his forehed deepened, "Why do I know your smell. Who are you."

"I'm Travis!" she replied frantically, "I'm Travis! I don't know why you know my smell! I shower everyday!"

He withdrew in confusion for a moment. Then he fixed her with his eyes, "If I ever find out that you've been lying to me..."

The threat hung in the air.

He turned around with a can of beer in his hand and stalked out of the kitchen. Travis heaved a sigh as she stared at the retreating overdeveloped muscular back of Logan.

What the hell was going on?

Travis ran a hand through her hair and blew out a breath in annoyance. This was just too much. She was sick of this world. She wanted to be in her own place with no comic book characters running about. She would give anything to just get out of here.

She wandered back into the music room. A few minutes later, piano music started to drift out into the hallway.

* * *

"'Chere!"

Travis blinked and looked up from the bench on which she sat. She had been deep in thought after the fiasco between Rogue and Logan last night. The chaos that erupted last night was... well, terryfing real. When she had seen all the blood, the colour had drained from her face. She shook her head to clear the memories.

She had been sitting here waiting for him to show up again. She looked around to see her escort (it was Bobby's turn this time) nowhere in sight. It wasn't at all surprising considering what Marie had done and though he wouldn't admit it, the kid had feelings for her. Add to the fact that she might have died yesterday on top of his raging hormones... well... Travis was glad that she had a small break where she might be unguarded for a bit of privacy. Calmly, she closed the book she was reading and stood up casually before she slipped behind the tree to come face to face with the grinning Cajun.

"Hello Remy," she greeted with a bob of her head.

"Very serious today ma belle," he greeted with a smirk as he twirled a card in his hand.

"Yeah well," she replied with a shrug, "I need to talk to you."

"'Bout what?"

"About that day when you found me."

"Oui?"

"What... what happened to me?"

Remy fixed her with a level stare. The twirling card stopped in his hand. Then, a sigh. Travis flinched. There had been too many people sighing in her general direction lately.

"Some'ting happened 'chere. Some'ting non so good," was his only reply. Then he quickly changed the topic, "They still keep you in dis prison?"

"Yeah... got a prison guard escorting me everywhere now and what do you mean... something not so good?" Travis demanded.

"It look like you gonna disappear 'chere, an' Remy non see some'tin like dat before."

Travis swallowed thickly. That was... not the answer she was expecting to hear. What the hell did he mean by that? Disappear?

"Remy think mabbe is dis place. You wan' Remy to take you away?"

Travis looked at him dumbly. Take her away? Where would he take her? She shook her head, "Maybe... I... I don't know. I need to think."

He smiled at her ruefully, "You think 'chere. But be careful. You a strange one and Remy non like you knowing all 'bout Remy secrets."

Travis grinned weakly, "You and everybody else it seems."

With a nod, he disappeared over the wall, trenchcoat flapping in the non-existent wind.

She sighed and settled back on the bench. The book lay unopened on the side. Her head rolled to the side as she tried to focus her thoughts. Off to the side on another bench sat Bobby, fingers laced together and brows furrowed in thought.

Travis smiled at the boy. Poor guy. The smile slowly turned into a frown as she saw Marie walk towards him and sit down on the bench. This... this was really familiar... and the sinking feeling of dread came when she realized what was going on.

How could she have been so stupid?! The arrival of Logan? That means...

Suddenly, the girl stood up with tears in her eyes and took off running towards the mansion.

Travis' heart dropped into her stomach as she stared at Bobby. He looked up at her... and his eyes briefly glowed yellow.

The name was out of her lips before she realized it.

"Mystique..."

His eyes narrowed at her. He stood and started to stride towards her. Panic gripped her as she scrambled up. Did she hear her? All the way from here?

Book forgotten, she sprinted the other way.

Before she could take a few steps, Bobby came into view in front of her, stopping her short. He cocked his head to the side and fixed her with the unnatural yellow eyes.

"Who are you."

"Me? I'm nobody," Travis stammered as she started to back up from 'him'.

"I heard you say my name."

"Your name?" laughed Travis, "What are you talking about? You're Bobby."

"Don't play stupid. I don't like humans who play stupid," came the cool voice. Travis shivered.

"I... I..."

Something heavy landed on her shoulder and she whimpered in fright.

"What have we got here?" came a deep gravelly voice behind her. Travis swallowed thickly. She wanted to cry.

"Not sure but I think _he_ might want to take a look at this one. This is no place for a human and Xavier's got her followed. She's got to be here for another reason other than being Xavier's pet. Take her."

Something hit her on the back of the head and the terrifying situation she found herself in disappeared from her conscious mind.

* * *

Travis woke up with her face on something cold and wet. With a groan, she slowly pushed herself up. Her head swam and throbbed. She rubbed at her temples with both palms trying to reorient herself. What... what happened?

Slowly, she blinked her eyes open to look around at her new surroundings. She was in a cell. She could hear water close by and the ceilings dripped with water. She sat up and looked around critically. This... this looked familiar too.

She stood up. The cell was small. There was a bed... well, there was a large concrete slab that resembled a bed off to the side. The brick wall was covered in something dark and slimy. There was a small window with bars on it and when she peered out, it was out onto what looked like an indoor river.

Realization slowly sank in.

She was in the sewer systems of New York...

And this means...

Travis gave a strangled groan and started smacking herself in the forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could she have forgotten? The arrival of Logan was the catalyst that started everything off. She should have stayed out of it and let everything play out the way it was supposed to play out! Now, she's stuck in a dingy damp cell in the sewers with a bunch of psychotpaths!

"Yer awake."

Speaking of psychopaths...

She swivelled around to stare at the mutant who greeted her.

"Toad."

His name was off her lips before she knew it and she instantly regretted it.

He spat at her, "What did you call me?!"

In her fright, she stammered, "Isn't that what the others call you? Or do you prefer Mortimer?"

The flabbergasted look he gave her made her realize that she had just called him by his real name. And everything, from the stress of the last few days to being kidnapped by Mystique because of her slip up came crashing down.

"AGGGHHHH! Why can't I get anything fucking right!" she yelled in frustration as she kicked the wall.

"How do you know my name, human."

Travis looked up to glare at him. She has had it with everything about this world. Maybe it was the bars in between them that made her feel a touch braver than she normally was...

"Fuck off Mort."

He looked amused by her retort, "You're either really brave... or really stupid. Better figure out which one you are before the others come for you. We don't hold too well for you dirty humans here."

"What makes you think I'm not a mutant?" Travis asked suspiciously. Nobody except Xavier knew.

"Mystique told us," he said before he fished out a small vial from his pocket and dangled it in front of the bars, "And so did the blood I took the liberty of testing."

"Then why am I still here?! Why don't you guys just kill me or something already!" Travis asked exasperatedly. Maybe if she died... she'll wake up in her own bed, out of this nightmare.

Toad shrugged, "Orders."

"I don't even belong here... what the hell... I'm not even involved in all this..." she muttered to herself. Toad regarded her with a thoughtful look as she sat there, sulking at her situation.

Then, he smiled a particularly nasty grin in her direction, "Try not to worry too much. You won't be human much longer anyhow." With a cackle, he stalked off.

Creep.

Still... Travis started to pace in worry in the cell. She had forgotten about the machine. Did they already try it on the Senator? She couldn't quite remember the sequence of what had happened... and the timing of where she fit into it was going to be important for deciding her course of action.

She sighed as she plopped herself down on the concrete slab. Course of action? She had gotta be kidding herself. She was stuck in a cell, in the sewers, with possibly the most dangerous mutants ever, and she was thinking about a course of action? Her only course of action is to throw herself to her captors' mercy. Maybe curl up into a ball and bawl her face off first.

There was snuffle and a grunt from the corner before her cell door banged open. Travis jumped up in fright before she backed into a frightened corner.

The man that stepped into the cell was... really really intimidating. He looked... nothing like Liev Schreiber or Tyler Mane. Instead, he looked like a strange morph of both. He had Schreiber's face and jawline but had a deep furrowed browed and piercing blue eyes with thick dark blond, almost brown hair swept back into a what looked like a short mane. He stood at a towering 6'5, possibly taller, broad-shouldered and all muscle. Everything about him oozed danger. It would've been sexy except for the fact that she knew he was more than willing to dance and bathe in the blood of orphan children.

Mutant or not, that pulled the sexy factor down quite a bit.

But he turned his gaze on her now. Calmly, he closed the door behind him and locked it, making it clear that all thoughts of escape was... well, impossible. Not that she was entertaining those thoughts anyway. In a small room and under the city of New York? She didn't have a chance.

"Now... we're all alone. Time we had a simple chat hmmm frail?" he purred as he stalked towards her. Travis didn't move.

He stopped in front of her, reached out, grabbed her by the neck of her t-shirt ad pulled her up to face him. Her legs dangled just out of reach of the floor. Travis felt a bit faint.

He leaned forward and buried his head in her neck. Travis whimpered. She didn't want to die, she didn't want to die, she didn't want to die...

"I told you I will always remember your smell," he snarled quietly into her ear as he licked at her neck.

Travis swore she could feel her mind break.

"Wha...wha...what do you mean my smell?" she managed to stammer out amidst all her incoherent thoughts. Gods, she shouldn't be turned on by this of all things right now.

He paused before he dropped her with a thud. Travis looked up at him in a daze.

"Didn't think I'd be such a figure to forget so easily," he mused as he graced her with a lazy smile. It was a smile that predators gave their prey.

"But...but... I've never met you before," she replied in confusion.

There was a snarl and suddenly he had her by the collar again and her back was pushed against the wall. She was slowly choking as she scrabbled to get a foothold to loosen his grip.

"Don't toy with me Travis," he snarled in her face, "I remember your smell. I remember you. I remember that scar I gave you."

Then, he dropped her on the floor again.

Travis rubbed at her neck as she looked up at him dumbly, "How...how do you know my name?"

He glowered at her, "I hope you're being stupid. I don't like being toyed with. Not by a frail bitch like you."

"No! No! I'm serious! I...this is the first time we've met," she insisted. Her terror was slowly melting into confusion. Logan had said he remembered her smell too...

"This can't be," he snapped irritably as he reached down and started pulling at her pants.

Frantically, Travis tried to push him away. No way was she getting raped in this god forsaken cell by a fucking comic book character if she could help it!

"What are you doing?!" she screamed hysterically as she tried to kick him away. He snarled at her before he pinned her down with his arms and his weight.

"The _scar_, you stupid frail," he snapped, "It's on your thigh!"

With a yank, he pulled down the hem of her jeans with one fluid motion to expose her right thigh to show...

"Nothing," he murmured in amazement as he stared at the smooth unmarred thigh.

"Of _course _there's fucking nothing," Travis snapped, "This is the first time we've met. Now how did you know my name?!"

"I'm never wrong. I always remember a scent, especially a scent like yours," he growled, more to himself than to her as he started to pace in the cell. "You smell exactly like her... and your name is the same. Nobody has that same name. Not a stupid name like that."

"HEY!"

He whirled around to pierce her with a dangerous look. "I'll get to the bottom of this. If I find out that you're toying with me... you had better hope you're dead before I get to you," he snarled the threat before he swept out of the cell and slammed it shut.

Travis stared after him... She knew she should be frightened... but this was just getting weirder and weirder... Then again, she thought wryly to herself, she could just be getting crazier and crazier. Despite the few months that she's been living in this world now, that notion of her existence here being a figment of her excessive imagination never went away. After all, in a crazy person's mind, time and space didn't have any meaning...right?

"Ah, I see you're awake," came a familiar warm sounding voice.

Travis looked up from the floor to see both Magneto and the blue naked body of Mystique. She sighed, after Sabretooth practically ready to rip her guts out, she just... didn't care any more.

"Oh sure, come in. Everybody's else been in this cell already. Why not you eh?" she replied tiredly, rubbing at her forehead.

Mystique's lips pursed into a thin line and her perfect brows furrowed.

"You will address your betters with respect," she snapped as she strode forward and lifted Travis bodily up in one fluid motion.

Travis snarled as she slapped her hand away from her, "No. You know what. I'm sick of this. Just cause you have a genetic mutation doesn't make you evolutionary better. Ooo you got super fucking powers. I don't give a fuck. I just want to be left alone and I want all of you to stop meddling with my fucking life."

Mystique had her arm out ready to slap her down before the man behind her grabbed her by the wrist firmly.

"No... let's hear what our guest has to say," he told her. Mystique retreated with a glare and the man stepped into the light.

Travis had to suck in a breath as she met the eyes of the older man. The thing about Erik Lensherr that Charles Xavier lacked... was the pure essence of authority that radiated off his being. While he did resemble Ian Mckellan, this Magneto looked considerably younger and... well... tougher. Almost impenetrable. It wasn't hard to see that where he went, men would follow. If he said jump, you would say how high, how far, and off what. He had the poise and charisma of a natural leader and he carried that authority effortlessly.

Travis fell silent. Suddenly, she felt awkward and embarrassed at her outburst.

"I... I just want to go home," she murmured, more to herself than to them.

"Well? Travis is it? Mystique has told me quite a bit about you," he said as he settled on the concrete slab in the corner almost delicately. The cape he wore fanned out behind him. She remained silent.

He smiled, "Oh? Not so talkative now? Let me give you a full report on what she has told me. She told me that the recruits at Charles' school call you Oracle."

She couldn't help it. Once she heard the name, Travis face-palmed.

The two mutants in the cell exchanged a look that said perhaps they were dealing with a raving lunatic.

"Anything wrong?" came the smooth question.

"No," Travis replied sulkily, "I specifically told them not to call me that is all. It's a stupid name."

"The report that Mystique gave me is that you know things... Certain things that pertain to our collective past, present, and quite possibly, future."

Travis fixed him with a stare, "Where... are you going with this?"

He smiled. It was a charming smile but it was a smile of a cobra ready to strike if need be. "I find it a curiosity that one such as yourself, lacking in any abilities that would have been provided by the X-gene, should come to such information."

"So you want to know how a dirty human like me know all about you guys," Travis replied sarcastically.

"In a word, yes."

Travis stared at him and then looked over at Mystique who fixed her with a suspicious glare. She sighed again and ran a hand through her hair.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Charles did."

"Yeah... after he probed my mind to see if I was lying."

"Annoying habit of his."

"Tell me about it."

The room lapsed into silence.

"And would you care to divulge what you shared with Charles?"

Travis played with her fingers. She didn't know if she did. What harm would it be? They couldn't read her mind like Xavier could... and if she didn't tell them the future... everything will progress as it should. She supposed there really wasn't any immediate harm... and she would be able to get out of this damp cell. Maybe.

"If I tell you, would you let me out of this damp cell?" she asked hopefully.

Erik Lensherr only smiled. It was a smile that told her that whether or not she got out of the cell would depend on what she said next.

"I'm... I'm from a different dimension of existence where you're all characters in a comic book."

Silence echoed. Travis winced. It still sounded so hollow in her ears when she said it. In fact, it sounded just plain crazy.

She looked up hopefully at the two mutants. Magneto gave her a calculating look before he stood up. Mystique fell in behind him.

"We will be back again for your answer when you deem it fit to _not_ mock our intelligence," was his reply as he swept out of the cell and the door slammed shut. Travis ran to the bars and clutched it, screaming, "I was telling the truth!"

Their footsteps echoed in the long damp hallway as they disappeared and she slid to the floor.

She kicked at the door.

"I hate this stupid world."

* * *

A/N: Shorter chapter but going faster now!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

* * *

The one thing that nobody told Travis about being a prisoner… was how completely and utterly dull and mind numbing it was. The days following her capture, Magneto tested her again and again but she never changed her story. What was there to change when it was the truth?

But she was starting to think that perhaps she should've made something up. She was convinced that he thought her to be a lunatic. A smart lunatic… but a lunatic nonetheless. Worse yet, he had come to the same general conclusion as Xavier.

Even a lunatic who held precious information was a lunatic to watch over.

After realizing that she was basically useless aside from the information she had (or at least, the information that she gave him to believe that his whole plan was going to work), the cell doors opened and she had free reign of… well… her cell and the one room that they gathered in. All other doors were locked to her and the machine that she knew was there was kept out of sight. They did not give her even an inkling of its existence. Still, there was some merit to being a complete wimp. People generally didn't expect much. And seeing as how she had no powers nor any way to defend herself… well, they weren't as wary as they should be.

Not that they should, she thought wryly to herself. What was she going to do? Threaten them with her knowledge of the future?

And the people she had for company? Well there is the bitchy blue woman who looked down on her and refused to acknowledge her existence whenever she came back from one of Magneto's missions, crazy hairy psycho boy who took every chance he could to make her remember him from some past that she was _sure_ only existed in his mind (and wished that he would stop sniffing her like a rabid dog), and grumpy green slime man who was… well grumpy, green, and slimy all the time.

It was definitely a step down from the Mansion but on the other hand, here she could say what she want (mostly because they all thought her to be batshit crazy) and did what she wanted whenever she wanted. She had real freedom in the two small rooms in the sewers. It was just too bad that there was _absolutely nothing_ to do. And there was only so much fear that one could have before being bored completely eradicates suspicion and caution.

So… she made friends with the three most disagreeable people in this particular Marvel universe. Though: 'friends' in a very loose translation of the word.

"Hey Mort," she greeted grumpy green man as she walked by and settled onto a stool across from him, biting into a pathetic looking apple, "Wat'cha doing?"

The mutant in question was bent over a desk with some delicate looking instruments. He looked up with a growl of irritation, "I told you not to call me that and it's none of your business."

With that, his head went down again to concentrate on his work. Out of the three, Mort was the least threatening, with or without his mutation. And while he might be a grump most of the times, there had been times where they've had some interesting enough conversations that stretched out late into the night. It mostly ended with him walking away from her in a huff and sore from losing whatever argument they were having.

Travis smirked into her apple. She allowed the silence to sink in before she suddenly popped the question again, "Wat'cha doing Mort?"

He pretended not to hear her but she saw the tightness in his hands and in the corner of his mouth, and the vein that showed on his forehead whenever he was annoyed.

Being cooped up in this sewer drove her insane and one of her favorite (and only) past time was to see how many buttons of Toad's she could push.

They lapsed into silence again.

"Moooooooooooooooort…!"

"What. Do. You. Want," he grounded out. His hands were in fists now and she giggled silently to herself.

She took two steps forward and bent down so that she's face to face with him from across the table. The magnifying glass he was using enlarged an eyeball of his and she broke into what oculd be described as an almost maniacal grin.

"Wat. Cha. Doin?"

"WORKING!" he snapped, "Will ye leave me alone!"

"But I'm booooooooooooored."

"Then go somewhere else to be bored," he sneered before his head bent down to return to his work.

Travis sighed as she finished off the apple. Then, she began to pace the room again, counting the steps and pretending she was balancing on a beam.

Four steps, five steps, six steps…

It was odd how quickly she had accepted this part of her life. The Mansion had been so strange… so different and fantastic that it was unreal. Here, down in the sewers, it felt way more realistic than back there. It was like she could not even remember her time back there as a teacher anymore. Ironic enough, here with a bunch of people hating mutants, she felt normal.

Ten steps, eleven steps, twelve steps…

Maybe her brain finally broke and she had accepted that this was all crazy and she might as well enjoy it while she was able to.

Fifteen steps, sixteen steps, seventeen steps…

But even though they were the bad guys… she felt as though _this_ was family. A really, really, really dysfunctional and psychopathic family… but she felt more at home here than… well…

"Moooooooooooooooorrrrrttttt."

"WHAT!" he snapped as he wrenched the goggles off his head, cheeks tinged pink with anger.

Whatever she was going to say died on her lips as the door slammed open to admit the tall figure of Victor. Unconsciously, she scooted closer to the green man though he only rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

Victor strode towards her before he shoved something into her hands. Travis looked down in disbelief.

"A guitar? You got me a guitar?" she asked, more confused than amazed.

"Play," he grunted before he sat down on one of the dilapidated couches and looked at her expectantly.

"Right now?" she squeaked. Comfortable or not, Victor was always a whole different level of caution. She knew she wasn't in any kind of real danger. While he might be his own person, he also respected the leadership of Magneto.

And Magneto wanted her alive.

Plus, he always looked at her as if he was waiting for her to slip up and say something that would reveal herself. Travis never understood what he was hinting at or what he wanted from her.

"Play." That was all he said.

Travis glanced over at Mort. He looked up from his work the moment Victor strode in and now, he gave her a shrug in response. This time though, he did not return to his work but looked on with a lazy amused smirk on his face. She glowered at him before she turned her attention to the gift that Victor brought her.

It felt like forever since she last touched a guitar even though she knew it was probably less than a couple weeks. Hesitantly, under both pairs of watchful eyes, she tuned it before she gave it a few experimental strums.

Then, as she sat there with a guitar in her lap and flanked by two mutants from a comic book… a song came to her mind.

"_I woke up this morning with the sundown shining in. I found my mind in a brown paperback within. I tripped on a cloud and fell eight miles high. I tore my mind, on a jagged sky._"  
"_I just dropped in, to see what my condition my condition was in._"

"You are _her_," Victor said suddenly and Travis froze in mid strum. She looked up at him, thoroughly confused.

"You _are_ her," Victor said again forcefully as if he wanted to impart some significant message to her. She could only give him a flabbergasted look in response. With a growl of frustration, he stormed out and that was it.

Confused, Travis looked up at Toad, "What was that about?"

He shrugged as he leaned back against his chair and wiped the magnifying glass he had been using casually, "Can't be sure with him sometimes." Then he glowered at her, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She held up the guitar with a large grin, "I got a new toy."

Toad buried his face in his hands, but not before he let loose a loud, long, and pretty damn satisfying groan of despair.

* * *

The music of a strummed guitar floated amongst the sound of water in the sewers.

She drifted in a weird sense of mixed surreal reality. Down here, she had no real grasp of time. She did not know how many days passed or what was happening to Magneto as he was smart enough to keep her completely out of the loop. Hours, days, weeks melded together and she spent her time keeping Mort company (much to his displeasure) and strumming the guitar that Victor brought down. It wasn't until one day when Victor burst into her room that the whole fantastic and thoroughly frightening reality of her situation came crashing down on her again.

She was in her room, strumming and humming along with the guitar in her lap when he came in. He had looked at her with a strange look in his eyes.

Cautiously, she set the guitar down on the side and looked up at him expectantly. Then he did something completely unexpected.

He looked at her with some degree of uncertainty.

She had never known him, especially _him_, to be uncertain about anything.

"Erm... You wanna sit?" she asked cautiously, unsure if that would break his strangely calm demeanor. He shook his head, paced the small room before he finally sat down beside her on the small cot.

The cot sagged where he sat. She frowned as she tried to scoot further away from him despite the sloping mattress. Then, there was silence as they sat there awkwardly. They lapsed into a strange kind of mutual understanding of boundaries and comfort. It was… odd. And really unnatural. At least, more unnatural than being stuck in a sewer with a comic book character.

Finally he looked at her, brows furrowed.

"You… know things."

"Er…"

"Don't say that. I know you ye stupid frail so shuddup and listen," he growled. There it was again, that hinted relationship that seemed to only exist in his mind.

But who in their right mind would argue with over two hundred pounds of ripping muscle with an anger issue? She shut up.

"You know things. You're not a mutant. You don't work for the government. You have no skills whatsoever but you know things. Things that nobody knows. About everything. Things that not even Stryker knew."

Travis looked at him warily. Stryker? What? Just where was he going with this?

"Magneto has a machine." He paused and looked at her as if waiting for a response.

Travis sighed. Guess the game was up. "Yes. I know."

"You know what this machine does."

"Yes."

"And nobody told you."

"… yes."

"And you know what will happen."

"… yes."

He drew up and away from her.

"And where do you stand."

She looked at him with a disbelieving frown.

"Where I always have. On my own."

He broke into a feral grin.

"That's what I thought." At that, he reached out to grab her by the back of her neck and pulled her hard against him. Travis had her hands braced and her palms pushed against the hard muscle of his chest as she struggled at this sudden invasion.

"Wha-what are you doing?!" He had his head buried in the side of her neck and she could feel his fangs as he nipped at her. He laughed and suddenly she was in his lap and he was grinding a rather impressive part of his anatomy against her. Pushed against his chest with his head in her neck, she felt suffocated.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod…_

"You know frail… you smell the same way now as you do back when I first met you," he snarled softly in her ear, "All those years ago… Do you know what you smell like?"

She felt like her head was going to explode. This is too…weird… a comic book character humping the bajeezus out of her could do that to a girl.

"W-w-whaaat…"

"Annoyed and confused… but not fear. But you should be scared, frail, you should be very, very scared," he purred into her ear. A lazy tongue lapped at her earlobe. She trembled and she bit down hard on her lip to stop the small whimper of fright from slipping out.

With that, he released her and she scrambled so far back away from him that she fell off the cot. Her heart beat erratically as she stared up at him with wide eyes. And just like that, he was suddenly all business.

"Magneto is using the machine tonight."

Dry humping forgotten (for now), she looked at him solemnly.

"So… he has the girl."

Victor did not have the good graces to look surprised that she knew this.

"Yes. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

"…no. Only please don't leave me locked in this sewer…"

He looked at her with a critical eye… then he nodded and turned to go. Before he left however, he looked back over his shoulder, "Remember… I can find you. Anywhere you might run, I will find you."

"I'm not running any where Victor."

A snarl of approval and a cocky smirk. "Good."

It took her a while to steady her frazzled nerves afterwards but once she did, she jumped into action. She grabbed an old backpack that she had found and started stuffing what little possessions they allowed her to have into it. After tonight, she would be out of here! Magneto would be captured, Mystique would disappear, Victor would disappear for a while but considering his healing factor… well, he would also pop up again, and Toad… Ah shit! Mort!

She quickly zipped up the bag and left, hoping to catch the grumpy green mutant before he left on the mission. It was not that they had gotten close over the last few weeks, it wasn't that at all. She had annoyed him past the point of sanity but he was always there when she needed something. It wasn't so much a friendship than an understanding between two parties. He hated humans and she didn't care enough to take his feelings of hatred into account.

She skidded into the small area where they spent most of their time annoying each other and was glad to see him just about to step through the door, goggles on his head, right behind Mystique.

"Mort! Wait!"

His scowl was enough to tell her that he did not appreciate being held up on one of the most important days of his mutant career. She skidded to a stop in front of him and to his surprise, she reached out and grabbed him by the face with both hands and drew him down to her eye level.

"Whatever happens tonight. I need you to promise me one thing."

He looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"You're touching me you dirty human."

She ignored him, "Remember to let go. That fight won't be worth it. Let go."

"What in heavens are you talking about."

"_Please_ Mort. Just let go."

There must have been something in her pleading voice that made him understand. He gave her a grim look before he nodded and left. Mystique stood by the door for a moment before the blue mutant turned to face her. She strode down to come face to face with her and regarded her with narrowed eyes. Travis took a step back hesitantly and there was some degree of satisfaction in Mystique's eyes when she did this.

"I know you will be gone after we leave so let me give you this one piece of advice, human," she told her in what sounded more like a purr than anything else. She leaned down to be face to face with the 5'3 human and her eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, "_Trust no one_."

Then, the door closed behind her and the _click_ echoed in the now empty sewers that Travis had once called home.

Travis shuddered. She was free to go. Nobody's here. She can go back to the Mansion. She was no longer a prisoner.

Why did she feel so empty?

She shook her head vigorously. This was no time to get all sentimental. There will be plenty of time for that later. The first thing that she needed to do was to get out of here. She tried the door that Mystique and Toad had left with and found it locked. Of course they would lock it! They probably thought that she was trying to impede their precious mission. Travis snorted, she could care less, especially knowing the outcome of the fight. That's one good thing about being in a comic book world. The good guy always wins. So they wouldn't mind if she tweaked how they won just by a little bit. A win was still a win. But maybe…

She spun around, backpack in hand and decided to search for other exits or entryways.

A plan was slowly formulating in her head.

* * *

It was perhaps an hour or so later that she finally emerged from the sewers and blinked owlishly up at the street lamps. Travis ran a hand through her matted hair and looked around to see if she could find something to point out where she had to go. Had it started yet? She hoped she wasn't too late.

First thing she needed to do was find the ocean. If she remembered correctly, the meeting was supposed to be taking place on Liberty Island. She needed to get there as fast as possible. No doubt, the rest of the Brotherhood was already there. She shouldered the backpack before she strode towards the smell of ocean water. It couldn't be that far considering she just emerged from a sewer for crying out loud.

"You look like you seen better days 'chere."

Travis froze. She slowly turned around to come face to face with a grinning Cajun before she practically leapt into his arms with joy.

"Remy!"

It seemed like he always popped up whenever she needed assistance. But best not to kick a gift horse in the mouth. She needed all the help she could get.

He chuckled, a low throaty sound, "Haven't seen you in a while. Like you disappeared. Almost got Remy scared 'chere."

"I need your help."

"Don't play around eh mon petite?"

"Nope. Emergency. I need to get to Liberty Island."

At this, his eyebrows raised before it dropped into furrows, "Why a pretty girl like you wan' go 'dere?"

"You… just gotta trust me on this one."

"Goin' be hard. Dey got government types dere. Remy no do well with dem."

"_Pleeeease?_" she begged and hoped that her puppy dog eyes were… well… puppy-dog enough.

He laughed at her expression, "Tell you what, 'chere. Remy like you so he helps. On de house. But he don' take you all de way."

She grimaced at how he had worded the sentence, "You're… not going to leave me at a bus stop again are you?"

"No, 'chere. Remy better dan dat!" he snickered but composed himself quickly, "You in a hurry 'chere?"

"Yes. Very much so."

"Den let's go."

* * *

Alright. Travis had to admit. Remy was just a bit more helpful this time around. But only a little mind you. The bastard had left her by the water edge at the pier… staring towards Liberty Island… with no way to get across Then, with a cheeky bow (despite her rather loud protests) and a blown kiss, he disappeared into the shadows. And now, she was desperately squinting into the darkness trying to spot some mode of transportation that she could commandeer. Aside from the creaking of the pier and the sounds of the waves and the distant conference that was happening, it was silent.

Finally, her eyes lit on a small motor boat that would comfortably fit two people. A glance around told her that the owner was nowhere nearby. Even better, the boat didn't need a key to start up. So, as silently as she could, she tossed the backpack into the back, untied the rope that anchored the small craft to the pier and tried her hand at starting the motor.

The first sputters echoed in the dark night and she winced at how loud it was. She kept still and strained her ears to see if anybody would come running.

When there was no sign of any movements aside from her own, she tried again. A few more times and the motor sputtered to life.

Then, with her heart in her throat, the little craft took off in the direction of the lights of Liberty Island.

She had to admit that despite her little experience with watercrafts, she was doing a hell of a good job steering and getting the little dinky boat under control. Frowning in concentration, she could almost see where she expected Mort to fly off the balcony in her mind's eye. Finding the place, in the dark, when you're on choppy waters however was a whole other story. She knew Mort would be the first to go and then, despite her own reservations about the whole thing, she made a conscious decision to pick up Victor as well. If he owed her… he was less likely to hurt her right?

That was what she was counting on anyway. Having heavily aggressive muscle on her side was always a good thing. _Always. _

The little craft continued to putter towards the statue. This was actually a lot less exciting than she thought it was. Then again, on second thought, she'd much rather she had her normal life back. None of this worrying about weird superheroes _and_ supervillains thing. Or the politics of it. Jeez, the politics of it. She winced. And if this really was the Marvel universe, she was going to have to worry about more than just mutants. She wondered vaguely when the whole Avengers initiative was going to happen. Would it be in the same sequence as the movies? She hoped so. She didn't think she could handle the Avengers coming after her. Nick Fury would be a force to reckon with. Much better if she conveniently disappeared.

But alive of course. Not disappear in that very dead sense of the word.

A flash of lightning caught her eye and her heart jumped into her throat.

Was that it? Was that Mort's cue?

She squinted into the darkness. There it was again, another flash… then, there was a buildup of light.

There! It had to be there! The winds were picking up unnaturally too. That had to be it. She steered the small craft in the direction of the unnatural weather phenomenon.

But not too close! She told herself. She didn't want to be sucked into the hurricane and lightning storm that Ororo had it store for Mort. Nor did she want the weather witch to recognize her. Let them think her gone, or dead. Travis didn't think that going back to that dressed up prison cell would be much of a life. Scott would just get all power hungry and make her life miserable afterwards if the next couple of movies were any judge.

There was a clap of thunder and Travis desperately scanned the skies. Did he let go?

Then she spotted them.

Just like in the movies.

Hanging precariously onto a metal beam by his tongue, Mort was struggling against the gales that pelted him, trying to get back onto the ledge. Travis heart hammered in her throat painfully.

_Let go. Please just let go. C'mon you idiot, let go!_

She watched helplessly as Ororo raised her arms and the clouds above them got darker.

_Let go you idiot. Let go! Let go! Letgoletgolegolegolego!_

"LET GO YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" she screamed into the winds.

There was a second of hesitance on both their parts, as if time froze as they tried to figure out the presence of the phantom voice in the darkness. And then, Ororo brought down her arms.

He let go. Just as the lightning hit the empty metal beam.

Where his tongue was.

Merely a few seconds ago.

Travis' heart soared as she watched the dark body being carried by the winds to drop into the water with a quiet splash to the right of her dinky craft. She steered the thing towards the dark shape that was now bobbing up and down in the water.

Hearing the sound of the craft, Mort spun around in the water with a glare that quickly turned into a wide-eyed look of surprise.

"Travis?" he sputtered in confusion as she grabbed a hold of an arm and hauled him into the small boat, rocking the craft as they both collapsed into it. She giggled in relief. All the stress of the last few hours had come crashing down on her as the adrenaline drained out of her system completely. She collapsed on top of him in a tight hug and a frantic kiss on his forehead to reassure herself that he was there.

"You let go!"

He sat there, limbs akimbo in the small boat with a stunned expression at the sudden show of physical contact.

"Travis…"

"Yes Mort?"

"Get offa me."

"Oh right, whoops sorry," she stammered as she tried to scramble off him and almost upended the boat in turn. As the boat steadied out, they both looked at each other with a contemplative look.

"You came?"

"I had to make sure you guys were okay."

"Us guys?"

"We need to go get Victor." With those words, she started up the motor again. As they steered into the darkness, Travis kept an eye out at the top of the statue. An unnatural light was emitting from it that throbbed and hummed as if it was alive. Travis felt a tug in her heart. Poor Marie… she was a sweet enough girl. She didn't deserve this kind of trauma.

"Victor?" Mort prodded.

"Yeah… he should be falling off that crown of the statue… there should be a boat or something near there…" she murmured, more to herself than to Mort.

"What? How can you know this? Did you plan this all along?" Mort asked suspiciously. Suddenly, his hand was around her throat and she felt her air supply being choked off. The boat sputtered to a halt in the bobbing black waters as she stared wide eyed at the green mutant.

"You planned this all along with Xavier's group didn't you," he hissed before he released her violently, almost throwing her off the boat. Travis wheezed and rubbed at the place where he had grabbed her.

"You think I…? Seriously?" she asked in disbelief.

"How else?"

"Aside from what I've told Magneto the countless times he 'interviewed' me?" she snapped back sarcastically.

"What? You're from some future where you know all of us? Don't make me laugh."

"Mort… if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have come out here in the freezing cold to rescue your ungrateful green ass."

He fell silent and only watched her. With a huff, Travis started up the craft again, uneasy under his gaze. The little craft puttered into action and they were off, slowly puttering towards darker waters towards the statue. In the dark, she looked about almost frantically as she tried to pinpoint where Sabretooth would fall off. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she looked up, trying to figure out which side of the crown the two brothers would eventually duel it out. Aside from the far away rumbling of someone talking on a microphone at the conference, the quiet splash of the waves against the small boat, and the steady sounds of the small motor, she had silence.

It was the reason why she almost jumped out of her own skin when Mort suddenly said, "What are you looking for?"

She looked at him sheepishly, "I had almost forgotten you're here with me. I'm looking for where Victor's going to fall off the crown… I can't remember which side of the statue he was battling Logan."

In the dark, his brows furrowed below the ridiculous large goggles he still wore. "Battling Logan?"

"Er… Wolverine. Yeah, Logan."

"How do you…." He stopped in mid-sentence when she gave him a meaningful look. "Nevermind."

"Wait… do you hear that?"

"Hear what," he snapped, more annoyed with the situation that he found himself in than anything else.

"I hear fighting."

"I can't hear anything."

"SHHh!"

Mortimer looked at the short human with disbelief. The girl just shushed him. He oughta…

Then, he _did _hear it…

It sounded like the faint clashing and scraping of metal on metal amidst the gusts of wind that were gathering at the top of the statue. Both craned their heads and squinted up into the shadows.

"They should be on the crown…" Travis murmured, more to herself than to her boat companion. The green mutant gave her a look that was hard to read even if his face had been illuminated by light. She ignored him and squinted into the darkness, trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from. Then, with her heart in her mouth, she heard a familiar screaming of rage faintly. Then, moments later, a sickening crunching and splashing sound.

"We're too late…" Mortimer murmured. In her ears, he sounded accusing. Travis whirled on him and fixed him with a glare before she started steering the boat closer towards the foot of the statue where she knows she'll find a broken boat. And hopefully, the unconscious form of one Victor Creed.

The search was fast. Finding a broken boat on the water was easier when there were many upright and sailable boats to compare it to. Especially when there were large chunks of metal sticking out of it. The massive body of Victor had washed up on a small patch of sand along the rocky shoreline. Travis pulled the boat up beside the unconscious form.

"Ok, hold the boat," she told Mortimer. Before he could retort back, she had already jumped off and splashed towards the small sandy patch of land.

Victor himself was in a poor condition and she almost gagged at the metallic taste that filled her nostrils. While the water lapped away most of the blood, there was still quite a lot of it. A quick look told her why his wounds weren't closing up as they should be. He had been impaled on some of the metal frames that built up the boat he fell into. She watched with strange fascination as his flesh tried to mend together but were unable to push the foreign metal out of the way. Victor was still out cold.

Travis swallowed thickly. Right. Well… she got herself into this mess. She should go through with it. With a huff, she rolled up her sleeves and tried to shake him awake.

Nothing.

Well duh. Travis sucked in a breath. This was quite a bit more disgusting than she had imagined. Then again… she did not imagine herself having to maneuver around the guts of Victor fucking Creed of all people. She sucked in another breath to try and calm herself before she gripped the large metal frame that stuck through his chest… and pulled.

Just her luck.

It was stuck.

Travis growled at it as if her frustration would cower it into submission. Her arms and hands were slick with blood and she wiped them, quite unsuccessfully, on her jeans before she gripped the metal again. Her hands were freezing. She braced herself… and pulled!

The damned thing shifted slightly… before completely coming out with a quiet _'schlik'_ and she landed back into the water with a splash and had to half wade and half swim back to the Victor's unconscious form. She peered at his chest and was satisfied that the muscles were mending properly. Then, she threw one of his arms of her shoulders and tried to shift him towards the boat.

"Help me," she hissed at the still shocked and completely unhelpful Mortimer. He gazed at her with an unreadable look on his face. He was silent for a moment but she hissed at him again and he sprang into action. Going to the other side of his unconscious comrade, he threw the other arm of his own shoulder to even out the weight before they half threw and half dragged him unceremoniously into the boat. Travis huffed as she tried to catch her breath. Not like the guy's going to care about getting any bruises. Bruises were probably the last thing on Victor was concerned about.

Now, completely soaked, both in blood and in water, Travis shivered. She climbed back into the small dingy, precariously perched on Victor's thigh since the stupid boat was so small. Then, she glanced at the still silent Mortimer.

"Let's go home."

"Why are you doing this." It was a statement of confusion more so than a question. Travis ran her hand through her wet and tangled hair and gave him a tired smile, completely fatigued and exhausted by the day's events.

"Believe it or not, I think you guys are the closest thing to family I've got in this fucking world," she replied before she shot him a strange sort of smile, "Two human-hating mutants, it's fucking sad isn't it."

Mort looked away. He didn't have an answer.

* * *

A/N: thinking of rewriting the first couple of chapters so it flows better. Thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Life had once again fallen into a strange sort of routine for Travis. It really just goes to show the adaptability of human beings in general. Unwilling to go back to the sewers, Mort had stolen a car and driven them to what she assumed was his home away from the more sewer-y home. It was a small four floor apartment building in a location where _nobody_ asked any questions. They had dragged the still unconscious and still healing (honestly, how long did this mutation healing thing take?!) Victor out of the car and up four flights of stairs before Mort more or less shoved open the door to emit them.

It was a strangely tidy place. The small apartment was equipped with a small kitchen unit that barely fit a person, a mattress and what looked like a poorly cobbled together bed frame that could fit perhaps two people, and a dilapidated looking couch facing a small TV that still had rabbit ears. There was another door that led to a small bathroom, a window that opened out to an alleyway and fire escape with a view of… the room in the next building.

They had dumped Victor's body on the bed where Travis once again, did a once over to see if anything else had lodged in his wounds before she had drawn the ratty covers over the massive hulking body. She had sank onto the couch with a tired sigh.

"So what now?" she had asked the green mutant as he looked at her with a strange look of contemplation and caution. He had shrugged, picked up the remote to turn on the tv before tossing it to her.

"Pizza?" he suggested.

And with that, they had fallen into a strange sort of friendship. The two had fallen asleep on the couch after he introduced her to all the popular television shows while they demolished a pepperoni pizza that a shaking freckled delivery boy brought.

The next morning, both woke up when Victor shoved them awake and asked if there was any meat in the apartment… And where the hell was his shirt? And what was he doing here? And why was the stupid frail with them?

After they explained, as best they can under the threat of being eviscerated, Victor had sat down on the bed only to scowl in her direction.

"Don't suppose you did me any favors frail," he spat in her direction. Mort had glanced at her with a quirked eyebrow as if to say 'told-ya-so' and she rolled her eyes in response.

"I don't suppose anything with you Victor," she had replied curtly and it was true, she had no qualms about his murderous appetite. The only person he couldn't kill was Logan… and not because he hadn't tried.

But for whatever reason, it had been a week since the incident and the three of them had remained in that tiny cramped apartment, made all the more cramped by the hulking mass of Victor. When questioned about it, she was told to mind her own business and that he had no intention of leaving her out of his sight again. It annoyed her but it also annoyed Mort to no end that they were in _his_ home and that Victor had taken over _his_ bed. The green mutant was growing more and more snappish the longer they stayed and Travis was beginning to think it was best for her to move on… but it wasn't as if she could show up at the mansion again. What would she say? Hey guys, missed me? I got kidnapped by Xavier's arch-nemesis and Sabretooth won't quit trying to hump me. Thanks for trying to look for me, assholes. That and Xavier would've opened up his own can of "told-ya-so" and "why-didn't-you-listen-to-me,-the-all-knowing-one. " The prospect and high probability of being forbidden to go outside and being under intense surveillance was not an attractive enough incentive to go back to the X-mansion.

The last couple of days however, Victor had gotten more and more… well, strange. To be fair, she did not know what _normal_ was for the giant mutant but it had seemed suspicious enough for her to take notice.

Mort and her had begun a habit of playing video games on the small TV while Victor did what Victor did. Stalk in and out, sometimes covered in blood, eat lots of meat, leer at her, sleep, and repeat. But sometimes, when she looked up, she would catch him looking at her with a contemplative look on his face. He didn't care if she noticed his staring at or not either. Every time she met his eyes, he would sneer a toothy smirk in her way and she would shudder. Shudder not because she was afraid of him. It was hard to be afraid of someone when you're aware of their daily routine. It makes him… almost normal. But she shuddered every time because… well, that's what you do when Sabretooth looked at you.

She was certain that he was planning something and it made her nervous what that _something_ was. Especially with everything that he had hinted at about their supposed past together. Whether or not Mort noticed her discomfort, he made no comment.

Then one day, Victor left.

"Where did you think he went?" Travis asked as they flipped through all the local channels to see if there was anything decent on.

"Who knows. Who cares. What I want to know is when you're leaving," Mort muttered. They were both on the couch again, him reclined on one side and her on the other. The couch was tiny that despite being on different sides, their legs still tangled in each other as they fought to find comfort on the cramped couch. Seeing as how they were forced to share the couch anyways when Victor was crashing on the bed, Mort had gotten quite a deal less snappish and irritable at physical contact.

Travis ignored his comment, "It's been two days. It's just… it's worrying."

"Why? You're not his wife," he sneered.

"Cause he's Sabretooth! Have you seen the way he was looking at me recently?" she asked with a shudder. Mort rolled his eyes.

"He looks at anything fuckable that way," he replied back as he flipped through the channels.

"Not cool."

"What?"

"Ugh… I don't want to be… not by… well… you know!" she replied exasperatedly, throwing her arms into the air as if it would enlighten the green mutant.

"Doesn't stop Victor," he had replied, bored. Travis frowned at him.

"Yeah. Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

He shrugged, "I'm not here to make you feel comfortable, luv."

"Don't I know it," she muttered and glared at him. He looked at her and an eyebrow raised into his forehead, "Wot?"

"Just… nevermind," she sighed before she looked at the bed thoughtfully, "You think if one of us sleeps on the bed, it'll be ok?"

Mort scoffed as he tossed a handful of chips into his mouth, "It's _my_ bed. I plan to sleep on it."

"Such a gentleman," Travis replied wryly as she focused her attention back on the TV.

"Wot? You wanna join me?" he asked with a leer. Calling his bluff, she glanced at the bed thoughtfully.

"It's a pretty big bed…" she trailed off. When she glanced at the green mutant, he was looking at her as if she had suddenly mutated wings on her forehead. It was all too much. She burst into laughter and laughed so hard she tumbled off the couch and started rolling around on the floor clutching her sides.

Mort scowled at her and gave her a "playful" kick to her side but lapsed into a grumpy sort of silence that he liked so much to stew in.

Eventually, she picked herself off the floor, gasping for air. Travis grinned and nudged him with her foot, "Hey, c'mon. I was just teasing. In all seriousness, it's a pretty big bed. Considering we've been sharing this tiny couch when Victor was here, I don't really see the problem. You're not going to get all weird on me are you?"

He smirked then, "Wot? Me? I don't think I can get more weird then green and slimy."

Travis rolled her eyes, "Oh get over it. Don't know if you've noticed but in this universe, it's like everybody's horrendously good looking. And then… there's me. Short, five-foot nothing weakling. It's like it's not good enough for you guys to all have embarrassingly high cheekbones and strong features. You all gotta be toned as shit too."

"W-w-wot? Yer think I'm good looking?"

She stared at him blankly. He stared back.

"You're…joking right?" she asked hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed. He only stared back at her, dumbfounded by the turn of their conversation.

"You have a freaking six pack! I don't even know how that is possible considering all I've seen you do is eat tons of junk food and do weird nerdy engineering computer stuff," she exclaimed exasperatedly, "And you look like Ray Park!"

"Who?"

Travis stopped herself. She had forgotten her references don't work in this world. Then, she kept going.

"You could do insane acrobatics and are extremely athletic? And er… hello English accent? Girls go crazy for that shit. The only thing that's off is that you're green and bite off someone's hand when they touch you," Travis pointed out then grinned as she nudged him again with her foot, "Though I think I've broken you off that 'biting people's head off when you're touched' habit."

He sneered at her though she imagined there was a slightly reddish glow around the cheek area on his greenish yellow skin. She couldn't help it. She was having too much fun embarrassing him. Who would have this opportunity again?! So, she said what everybody in the fandom was thinking.

"Besides, I mean, long agile tongue? I'm surprised you're not more popular with the ladies," she sniggered.

A pizza flew through the air seconds later and she dodged it laughing but was cut short when the pizza box was followed by a green body. She yelped as she tried to twist away. The two crashed onto the floor.

"Are you… are you tickling me?!" she gasped in laughter and at the sheer ludicrousness of the situation. She twisted beneath him and shifted so that he was unceremoniously kicked off before she tackled him laughing.

"Mort, I didn't think you had this side of you!"

"Ye shut up and yer stupid comments," he exclaimed, still flushed from the unexpected things she had pointed out. Whether or not he felt even more self-conscious about his tongue, Travis never found out.

After a few more minutes of wrestling, the pair laid on the ground, wheezing. Well, Travis was wheezing. Mort merely looked up at the ceiling with an interested look on his face.

"Thanks for not using your mutation. I know you're way stronger than that," she finally said after catching her breath, "Gotta ask though. You've warmed up to me quite a bit."

"Yer not really human are you."

"What do you mean? I'm as human as you are," she replied with a frown as she propped herself up to stare at the mutant. He sneered at her, "I'm not human. I'm a mutant."

"You're as human as me. Just cause you've got a mutation doesn't make you less human," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Ye say that like it's normal. It's not," he snapped impatiently. Travis shrugged, "Sure it is. It's the same as if I was born with a third nipple, or a tail, or different coloured eyes. They're mutations. Just cause yours is more prevalent doesn't make you less human. The way you're acting out makes you all the more human than you think."

"I'm not human," he spat before he looked at her strangely, "I still don't understand why yer so friendly towards us muties."

She sighed as she propped herself down beside him, lying on her side so that she faced him, "Ya know, for someone who's supposed to be older than me, you're kinda dumb sometimes." Then, with a finger, she poked him in the chest, "Have you done anything to me that will cause me to mistrust you?"

"We kidnapped you."

"Mystique and Sabretooth kidnapped me. The only thing you did was to have the misfortune of keeping me company."

"Yer not scared of Sabretooth."

"Are you _kidding_ me?! I'm terrified of the guy."

"Why did you save him then?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe it was the right thing to do."

"Why did you come looking for me?"

She flushed and scrubbed at her right temple, "I dunno… I… I guess I didn't want you to die too. I mean, Victor's got his healing power thing but if you get attacked… well, poof, that's it. Goodbye only person I care about."

"You care about me?" he asked, fixing her with a strange look. She was about to withdraw but he grabbed a hold of the hand that was poking him in the chest tightly. Travis fell silent as she looked at him. Did she? She obviously cared enough to come out to save his ungrateful ass.

"I… Yeah I guess so. I wouldn't come out on that stupid boat if I didn't would I." She scratched the back of her head in thought, not quite realizing the implications of her acquiescence.

He was silent for a while before he sat up as well and turned to face her.

"So… Chinese tonight?"

And that was the last discussion they've ever had about any sort of perceived relationship between them.

Of course, like a bad smell that keeps coming back, the two's weird coexistence with each was broken up by the reappearance of one, Mr. Victor Creed.

* * *

They were sitting on the couch and Travis was beating Mort… yet again.

"_Finish him_," echoed the voice from the small TV.

"Yer joking, luv. Ye've gotta be cheatin'. That's the fifth in a row!" groused Mort as he tossed down the controller. Travis sniggered as she put down the controller and reached over to the bag of chips.

"You're such a sore loser. Admit it, I'm better than video games than you. Amazing hand-eye coordination," she replied with a wink. He shoved her playfully, "I'm not being a sore loser. I know yer cheating."

Travis laughed but that was cut short when there was _whumphf!_ from the fire escape just outside the streaky widow of the small apartment. It didn't take a genius to figure out that hulking shadow of a figure standing outside was Victor. Even a blind man would be able to tell.

He was wearing his business clothes, the deeply stained leathers that he wore when he was on a job. Travis noted that he hasn't gone on a job yet since there were no fresh or new blood splatters on it just yet.

"Hey Victor, how are you?" Travis greeted, more out of politeness than actual interest. The temperature in the room has already dropped by a few degrees merely by his presence.

Slowly, he strode forward, almost calculatingly, "Come here, frail."

Travis immediately became on the alert. This… this was new. "Eh? What's all this about then?" She pushed herself up from the couch and exchanged glances with Mort. He looked back at her, face devoid of emotion. The confusion of the situation rankled her.

"You gotta believe me, frail…" Victor continued as he strode forward, effectively pushing her towards the wall. '_He's cornering me… he wants something…_' The alarm bells in her head at on full blast. She glanced over at Mort. Their eyes locked… and he looked away, refusing to keep eye contact.

Her heart sank.

'_Traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor, traitor..._'

"It ain't anythin' personal," Victor continued as he smiled a crooked smile in her direction, "It's just… a little something that we like to call… business."

He lunged.

But Travis was ready for it. The fact that she was probably made the great Victor Creed just a bit careless. She ran forward just as he lunged and did a slide in between his legs that any major league baseball player would've been proud to call his own. Before Victor could react to the sudden movement, she jumped up and kicked him as hard as she could… right between the legs.

There was a howl of rage but Travis immediately spun around towards the fire exit, snatched up the closest coat (which happened to belong to Mort) and jumped out of the fire escape. Adrenaline coursed through her system as she climbed up the stairs. Her thighs were burning and her lungs were screaming but in her head, all she could think of was Sabretooth and his stupid healing factor. She did not have much time before he fully recovered and now was not the time to dwell on the feeling of complete and utter betrayal in her gut.

She stumbled onto the rooftop and glanced around. Of course, just like a comic book movie, the roofs are conveniently close enough to be jumped to. Heart in her throat, she chose one and with burning thighs and a thudding heart, she made a running jump to tumble onto the next rooftop. This continued for a while until she was completely lost. By this point in time, the rain had started falling. She was incredibly thankful for this because the water will at least wash away her scent and make it harder for Victor to track her down. And concrete's own inorganic properties should make it harder for her to be detected.

Finally stopping, out of breath and adrenaline, Travis slumped against a wall, exhausted. The rain beat down on her and she pulled the coat she stole from Toad tighter around her. Alone and on the run again. She almost expected Gambit to pop up again and whisk her off this rooftop but she knew that was only wishful thinking. This was her own decision and she had to pay for her own consequences now. Though, she didn't doubt that someone would find her. Whether or not that particular someone was good or bad, only time would tell.

Her eyes fluttered. She was suddenly so tired.

The way that Mort had looked at her when she stepped out onto the fire escape was burned into her head. The way he had looked away… it bothered her more than she thought it would. It felt like such an act of betrayal.

As her mind drifted away from Mort, she wondered if it would be better if someone else found her other than Victor. He was as sadistic as they came and it seemed like despite her previous actions, there was no such thing as remorse in any of the actions he took. While she might consider him as a friend in the vaguest definition of the word, she was convinced that he was only interested in her as an object to further his goals. The words of Mystique echoed in her head, "_Trust no one. Trust no one. Trust no one…_"

Slowly, despite her state of paranoia, she drifted into an uncomfortable sleep with the coat wrapped tightly against her. Though to her, she had only just blinked when suddenly, something landed on the roof that jostled out of her light sleep. She pushed herself back as she saw the boots that were on the rooftop. She swallowed thickly. Well… on the plus side, they didn't belong to Victor. Her eyes travelled up the boots to a pair of defined legs clad in red and black spandex. When her eyes reached the masked face that perched on a pair of strong shoulders, her eyes widened in recognition and surprise.

"Hey babe, why so surprised?" came the quip and she scrambled back only to have her back hit the brick wall that she had leaned against. The masked man took a step forward with a large grin, "What? Don't like what you see? Don't see why… I'm gorgeous!"

At that, he struck a pose. Travis only stared up at him and tried vainly to work out if his arrival was a good thing or not… Though with _him, _nobody really knew. Ever.

"D-d-d-deadpool," she whispered hesitantly.

"Ah! I see my name precedes me. Must be getting good," he said with a smirk, "Though you already know me already dontcha? That's what the yellow boxes tell me. Hey shush, I know already. I'm talking to the girl. Let me handle this."

Travis chewed on her bottom lip, "Erm… Sure. Why are you here?"

"Why am I here? I'm here for you babe. Just for you. Aren't you a special little thing? Look! I even got you flowers for our first date!"

A bouquet of roses seemed to materialize out of thin air as he handed it to her. She didn't take it. Instead, she crossed her arms across her chest and glowered at him in what she hoped was the bravest way possible.

"What if I don't want to go with you?"

"Baby, you ain't got a choice."

Something whipped out from the side. First she thought she saw stars… and rather belatedly, she realized that the comic book character had just pistol-whipped her into unconsciousness.

* * *

A/N: That took a while to update but at least Deadpool is finally in the picture. :D


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

* * *

It was a rather groggy existence that greeted her when she slowly came to her senses.

The side of her head throbbed mercilessly. Was this a concussion? What was a concussion supposed to feel like anyway? She kept her eyes shut. Opening them seemed too much of an effort at this particular point of time.

The first thing that hit her when she gained some sort of cognitive awareness of her surroundings was the smell. It wasn't _bad_ per se, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. It was just one of those strange, kind of unpleasant, musky smells.

Shifting slightly, she managed to crack open an eye to survey her surroundings.

It was dark. The only light emitted from a small TV that had been pushed to one side that sat in front of a couch that had seen better days. From the glow of the screen, she saw empty pizza boxes and various miscellaneous wrappers that littered the floor and the small coffee table that had been shoved to one side. In the corner sat a large, over stuffed armchair.

As for herself, she was tied down to a rolling chair, arms and wrists bound tightly her back and her legs, roped together. She wiggled her fingers to get the circulation started and again and winced at the feeling of pins and needles travelling up her arm. She wiggled her toes and was rewarded with the same sensation.

Well… she wasn't going to be able to escape this situation in a hurry…

A soft light in the corner flickered on and Travis jerked in surprise. Her head snapped to the corner and watched warily as a familiarly clad man strode towards her.

"Hello my sleeping beauty! Finally awake I see?" came the chirp as he deposited a greasy paper bag onto the coffee table. With a hand on his hips, he gestured to the room apologetically, "Sorry about the mess. Don't get many guests here. They usually don't make it this far into the conversation." At that, he grinned a grin so large that she could see it through his mask.

"Are ya comfortable there love? Hey, shut up, I know how to treat women okay? Oh yeah? What do you know? You're just a yellow box anyway!" he started rambling. It was clear that he was on one of his inner monologues with himself.

Travis sighed. Well… at least she wasn't gagged or blindfolded. That was a good thing she supposed… But this was a horrible way to end. She was going to be talked to death by one of the most annoyingly talkative characters in the Marvel universe. Great.

Maybe this was why they named him the Merc with the Mouth. He killed you by talking you to death.

Travis had to grin wryly to herself. At least she still had her sense of humour…?

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, interrupting his monologue, "I thought you'd have killed me by now."

He looked at her in surprise as if just realising that he wasn't the only one in the room. Then he broke into a grin before he strode towards her. Her eyes adjusted to the glow of the TV as she looked up at him from her seat.

He was tall. Tall and broad shouldered. His presence oozed something that was a mixture of confidence, casual indifference, and scarily enough, psychopathy. And though the red and black spandex suit hid his features, it definitely left little else to the imagination. He still had his holsters and gear strapped onto his body but despite all the extra bulk he carried, she could still make out practically…._everything_. Travis swallowed thickly.

It really wasn't fair how everybody in this goddamned universe was so physically… _blessed_.

He evidently could read her train of thought because he smirked, "Like what you see?"

Travis' face turned red but not before she quipped back, "When it's all for show, it's pretty hard not to."

His smirk might have gotten larger but behind the mask and in the dim lighting, she could not tell for sure.

"I think I'm going to enjoy having you around," he replied as he lifted her chin up with a finger.

"Having…having me around? You're not… offing me?"

He waggled his eyebrows appreciatively at her, "Only if that means what I think it means."

She made a face. Now was not the time for sexual innuendo. And a look around showed that it was also definitely not the place for it.

"So you're not going to kill me?" she pressed.

"Nope!"

"So… you've… kidnapped me….to… live with you?" she ventured, more confused than ever.

"If only babe, if only. Mercernaries gotta eat too ya know. That and I've fresh run outta C4s. Damn those things are handy," he murmured.

Her mind worked as she tried to process what he told her. Nothing personal. Just business. That was what Victor had said. Her suspicions were confirmed.

"So… there _is _a bounty on my head."

"Beauty _and_ brains! A guy can really fall in love!" he quipped as he spun her around in the chair gleefully.

Travis scrunched her eyes shut. The action wasn't helping her nausea. And a bounty. Just her luck. Looked like the Professor was right about one thing at least… she was a desirable commodity. Someone knew about her. Or at the very least, knew about her knowledge of high profile vigilantes and superheroes in this universe. Not only that but if someone was willing to hire either Deadpool or Sabretooth for the job… this was serious. Nobody hired either of those two unless shit was going down. No sane person who weren't desperate would ever put those two psychopaths on their payroll.

Travis sighed as the spinning stopped and she came face to face again with the red and black mercenary.

"Can you loosen the ropes at least? Or cut me loose? It's not like I'm going to be going anywhere…"

He regarded her thoughtfully, if not a little suspiciously, "I dunnoooo…. That's what all the other women in my life have said… But they always end up bashing my head in with some object and run off with my heart." He pouted in her direction. At least… she thought he did. It was hard to tell with the mask.

Travis rolled her eyes, "I can count the women who ran off with your heart with one hand. I promise not to run off with yours or to bash your head in. You're being a little bit melodramatic there, Wade."

She almost immediately realised her mistake once his name left her mouth.

"Wade? Who's Wade?" he asked innocently though she thought she detected a hint of caution in his voice as well.

She chose to ignore the question, "So did your employer at least say why he wanted me?"

He remained silent (for once) but regarded her thoughtfully. She supposed this was a rare moment of seriousness for the mercenary.

"So… er… no?"

"Weeeeelllll… they did mention something about certain knowledge that you might have stolen from them, yada yada yada. I wasn't really paying attention."

She couldn't help herself. Travis barked in laughter. Stole from them! Classic!

"Hey heeeey! I thought it was funny too…? Did we pick up a crazy one? Why is it always the crazy one?" he spoke to himself, "Remember the one that we picked up off of Main? Yikes! What do you mean she was the crazy bag lady? How did you know that?!"

Travis sighed again. She supposed this would be a good time to use her knowledge to her advantage. If she had Deadpool on her side… maybe she stood a chance. She groaned inwardly. She couldn't believe that she was going to resort to asking him for help. Deadpool of all people. He was more likely to cut off your arm by accident…_intentionally._

"Alright, look. I like you Wade-"

"She likes me!"

"- I know you're a good guy."

"I am?"

"Aren't…aren't you doing the hero thing now?"

"Nah. Tried it for a while. Didn't end up with the girl. Bit of a disappointment."

"Well… you're thinking about it anyways right?"

He frowned at her, "I dunno where you're going with this girlie, but I ain't following if it doesn't end in a chimichanga."

Travis gaped at him. A chimichanga? Really…?

…

No.

Right.

She had almost forgotten who she was dealing with. She took a deep calming breath.

"Look, I'm trying to tell you why these goons of yours hired you to get me."

"So no chimichanga?" he asked, saddened and pouting.

If she had her hands untied, she would've facepalmed herself in exasperation.

"If you untie me, we'll go have chimichangas?"

"OK! Waaaaaaaaaait… how do I know you're not gonna run off on me leaving me behind with no chimichangas?"

Travis wanted to slam her head against a hard surface.

"Wade!" she exclaimed in exasperation, "Look! I know things!"

"What's that gotta do with chimichangs?" he asked, confused.

"What? Nothing! Will you stop with the chimichangas!"

"You can't stop the chimichangas!" he exclaimed in horror.

"I'm not… I'm not trying to stop…! WHAT? That doesn't even make any sense!"

He nodded in agreement, "No… you're right. It doesn't. I've got one right here!" He reached into the paper bag that he had deposited on the coffee table and pulled out something wrapped in tin foil and proceeded to nuzzle it to his face.

"Oh chimichanga… I love you. Don't you ever leave me. You hear me?"

Was…was this what the Xmen and the rest of the Marvel universe felt when they spoke to Deadpool? This feeling of annoying confusion and the sudden urge to punch something?

"Victor's after me."

The chimichanga dropped on the coffee table with a soft _plop_. That got his attention.

"Creed's after you? Why is he after you? Did they hire that hairy bad tempered pussy-cat after I gave them my more than generous rates!?" he exclaimed as he dragged the chair she was tied to over the armchair and sat down so that they were at eye level.

"Er… I don't know about your rates but I was… well… I was living with him for a while. Sort of. Then business got in the way. That's what he said anyways," Travis replied and shivered. Even thinking about Sabretooth running after her gave her the creeps. She knew what his psychopathic and sadistic side was capable of. On a belated note, she wondered if Mort was okay…

Deadpool stared at her thoughtfully. At least, she thought he was staring at her thoughtfully.

"You were… living? With Creed?"

Hesitant pause.

"Yeah."

Silence.

Then suddenly, the man in spandex broke into guffaws of laughter.

"What did you do? Iron his leather for him? Did you shrink his furs in the washing machine? Or wait! It was the manicure wasn't it? You broke his nail? Oh wait! Oh wait! I know! You cooked him vegan meals and he got sick of it? Oh oh oh! How about, did he not like your maid outfit? He wanted something hairier right?!" he hooted in laughter. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand (though she didn't know why he bothered… he was wearing a freakin' mask).

"Though… I wouldn't say no to you in a maid outfit," he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"You're not taking this very seriously are you," she asked wryly.

He grinned and clapped his hands together in glee, "Nope!"

Travis sighed again. No, of course not.

Stupid universe.

"Look… can you at least just untie me or something? I promise I won't run… and the ropes are chaffing my wrists."

He frowned at her, "I don't think you understand the whole hostage situation thingy very well lady."

"Travis. My name is Travis."

He paused and gave her a look that was hard to decipher (mask and all).

She stared back, suddenly uneasy, "What? What is it?"

"I knew a Travis once," he murmured as he tilted his head to the side. She stared at him and then grimaced. What the hell. Sabretooth and Wolverine had said something along those lines as well.

"Right. Okay. I'm sure you do, okay. Whatever. Untie please?"

"Promise you won't run?"

"I promise. There's nowhere for me to run to anyway," she replied with a shrug. He grinned, "Atta girl, I like that attitude."

There was a glint of light as he removed a knife from one of his holsters and slashed in her direction. Travis would be lying if she said she didn't flinch from the action. But the ropes loosened and she massaged the feeling back into her wrists.

"What about my legs?"

Another slash and the ropes around her legs loosened. She rubbed her calves gingerly. He probably missed a tendon by a few centimetres. _Prick_.

"Thank you," she relented and he grinned back at her before he reached into the paper bag again and tossed her something wrapped in tinfoil.

"Chimichangas for everyone!" He picked up his own and started digging into it. Travis looked at him with a strange sense of amusement. It was odd how she felt safe in the presence of this lunatic. But… then again, when she had spent days in the sewer with Magento's crew, anybody else was safe.

She sat down cross legged on the dilapidated couch and gingerly unwrapped what would constitute as her dinner.

"I've never had a chimichanga before," she murmured, more to herself than to the present company.

There was a dead silence in the room and it took her only a few moments to realise that he had stopped scarfing down the thing noisily. She looked up to come face to face with Deadpool, his mask pulled up to reveal a scarred mouth that was slack in shock and bits of the tex mex food still in it. He swallowed.

"How. Could. You. Not. Ever… But… You… Chimi… changa…"

Uh oh. She broke him.

"Well I'm going to eat it now okay? Relax!" she groused but hastily took a huge bite into the thing before any further damage to his already fragile mind was done.

He sat, legs crossed as he looked at her expectantly.

"Erm… wow. It's really er… good," she offered lamely. It was a bit too greasy for her taste but who was she to argue with a crazed lunatic who was intent on feeding her?

"RIGHT?!" he exclaimed before he continued digging into his deep-fried treat. Travis lapsed into silence as she ate hers slowly and tried to figure out her situation.

As the situation currently stands, she was being hunted by an unknown person/organisation (though she supposed it was an organisation… a single person wouldn't be able to front that much money). The reason was possibly because of her knowledge of not only the identities of the Xmen but the subsequent superheroes/vigilantes that were running around. Wasn't that a huge crime syndicate running around town? They would probably pay big money for her. That was the only possible reason for anybody wanting her, especially when they were willing to pay that much for it. It had to be self-serving right?

Travis frowned. Or was it self-preserving? Did the military want her? But the military wouldn't make any sense since they had no ties to either Sabretooth or Deadpool…

Her eyes widened as she contemplated the possibilities.

The military. Sabretooth. Deadpool.

The only connection was… Stryker.

The Weapon X program.

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

Travis looked up slowly from the couch to stare at Deadpool uneasily. He burped loudly rubbed his stomach as he settled back on the armchair, TV remote in his hand.

"What's wrong babe?"

"Nothing," she replied quickly. He looked up, frowning.

Suddenly, he bounced up, strode over in a step to loom over her. Travis froze. He bent at the waist and leaned forward and she subconsciously backed away, not realising that she was seated on the couch. His arms came forward as he braced them on either side of her head. She stiffened.

He was so close she could feel the heat coming off his body. Her mouth felt dry. His face was so close that she could see past the eyeholes in the mask to look directly into his pale white eyes. The absence of irises should scare the fuck out of her but for some reason, she couldn't breathe. She could hear her heart going a mile a minute as he leant closer… and closer…

"Are you…" he breathed and she shuddered involuntarily. He was dangerous. Wait… Was she turned on? Why was she turned on?!

"I…?" she whispered back, belatedly wondering why she was whispering.

"….gonna…." He was so close. So warm…

"…y-y-yes?"

"…eat that?"

Travis blinked.

"What?"

"The chimichanga is getting cold."

Travis blinked again before bringing the wrapper up so that it was in between their faces to break the connection, "Take it."

He swiped it with a giant shit-eating grin on his face and danced away, chomping on the thing with a gleeful cackle.

Travis sucked in a breath of air sharply and sat there, stunned and feeling a bit dazed. Did she… did he just…. She wasn't actually… was she?!

She glanced over to the armchair where Deadpool had now gotten comfortable. He lounged in it, one leg rested and swung from one of the arm rest while the other rested on the floor, splayed out. One hand was on the remote as he flicked through the channels on the little TV absently while the other was…

She winced.

Yup… he was scratching his balls with his own gun.

Travis' eyes narrowed as she looked at him and tried to think clearly. She couldn't deny that she found him physically attractive… After all, he was in peak physical form. And that moment on the couch when… and his breath… and his warmth… and… she had been too shocked to react but now, the different dirty scenarios played out in her mind with alarming clarity.

She scowled.

Well, _shit._

* * *

__A/N: The story is probably gonna speed up a bit at this point but I hope you guys enjoyed the back and forth between the two. I hope I've captured the insanity that is DP accurately enough. Thanks for reading and all the reviews so far! You guys keep me going!


End file.
